Dancing with the Darkness
by Marie Hawkins
Summary: Insanity is the phantom disease plaguing the streets of London in the mid 19th century. Tempest Grimm, allegedly insane, resides at Northwood Home for Wayward Girls. She's heard of a demon who just might be able to help her escape. Pre-Kuro
1. Prologue

**A\N:** Ah, hello there. Marie Hawkins here. I'm not usually one for corny author's notes, but it's late, I'm tired, and I feel like writing one. (Plus I don't wanna think about the doom of my impending Chem II test…)

Though I have, like, seven other fics going on right now, I _really_ felt the need to post this one. You probably know how that goes, the story in your head is screaming to be written and won't shut up until you give in, so… yeah. I have noted there are numerous fics about what happened to Sebastian "Pre-Kuro" though there was never really anything about Claude (because no one likes him as much, except for –apparently- me. Except, I totally hate him, too. It's a weird love\hate thing. Don't judge me.). Anyway, due to the insane amount of time I've recently spent watching Kuro II and listening to Emilie Autumn, I sort of "birthed" this one day.

So, just a little background\random stuff I feel like I should mention: This is (obviously) pre-kuro (taking place in the 1850's, so not TOO far ahead, just a few decades. :D), this will deal with some fairly dark material- as insane asylums were _not_ happy places in the Victorian Era (yes, I have googled the subject a little, go me!). You will be warned should there be any really heavy dark material, so hoorah for that. Also, I am not making money for this (it's just for fun because I have no life), I don't own Kuroshitsuji or Kuroshitsuji II (that honor belongs to Yana Toboso), and I would really like for you to leave a review. ;) Pretty please with a cherry on top!

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><p><em><span>Prologue<span>_

I hadn't meant to stumble upon the sight. I hadn't meant to lose my innocence. Perhaps because I was out of bed after hours, which was a sin within itself, I was cursed to become a witness. Nevertheless, I saw it all. I saw everything that happened that night.

My governess, Townnesend, liked to dress in black. It was the only color her wardrobe seemed to contain. The dull, empty color always bothered me. Secretly, I wished I could sneak into her room and paint her dresses a different color.

Townnesend's black dress was even more dislikeable when it was stained with my mother's blood. I was sure I was too young to know anything about the relationship between my mother and my governess, though I'd always been able to sense some form of hostility. The argument that was taking place this particular evening, revolving around my father, got out of hand. From the top of the stairs I watched, a mere girl of seven, as my mother was murdered.

I ran back to my room as quickly as my legs would carry me, throwing myself onto my mattress with inexplicable force. Moments later, my bedroom door creaked open. Townnesend quietly slipped to my side, still dripping in her disgusting black lace, as well as my mother's blood. She leaned down and kissed my cheek, tucking me in.

"I know you saw," she whispered menacingly in my ear. I closed my eyes tightly, fearing what the woman would do to me, as I was the only witness to her horrendous crime. I knew she didn't care much for me either.

"If you breathe a word of it to your father, you'll regret the day you were born," she whispered sweetly as she exited my room. Grudgingly, over the next few months, I obeyed her orders. It wasn't until my father announced their engagement that I'd even had the courage to speak up about it. But, to know that horrid woman was attempting to take my mother's place was too much for my poor young spirit to bear.

My father did his best to listen to my panicked explanation of what had occurred merely a year ago. He had not been present in the house at the time of the murder, and was quite naïve. He listened to my story kindly and lovingly, respecting his foolish little girl just as he'd always done. He explained it was only natural to want my mother back, and that my feelings of hatred toward Townnesend would disappear. He said she would be the perfect mother for me.

This information sent me over the edge. I rarely ate, and only spoke of my mother's murder. I would speak to anyone who would listen, but to no avail. Townnesend suggested to my father that I was taking my mother's death too hard, and that I might suffer from insanity. They both decided that it would be best if I stayed in an asylum until I was cured.

That is how I came to Northwood Home for Wayward Girls.


	2. A Loon's Tale

As inmates at Northwood, there was an unspoken agreement between girls to not get attached. It was impractical to befriend others as girls would be alive one day, and disappear completely the next. No one ever informed us of these girls' whereabouts, but I-just like every other inmate- could easily guess what happened to them.

As was customary to my behavior, I found myself at odds with society's (or in this case Northwood's) implicit social customs; I had a friend.

Elizabeth Todd had arrived at Northwood mere weeks after I had. We were among the unfortunate few that the doctors at Northwood had taken a liking to. Our curse was to remain at Northwood for an unset, unspoken amount of time.

Elizabeth was small, thin, and extremely delicate looking. She always reminded me of a princess, or what I had imagined a princess to look like. She had soft creamy skin framed by unruly chestnut colored curls, large deep emerald eyes, a delicate frame, slender fingers, and a soft voice. I suppose because of her delicate and dainty appearance, I felt as though I should safeguard her, though it was nearly impossible to keep anything pure in a place like Northwood.

Northwood had been our home for the better part of seven years. We had suffered all the tortures the place had to over time and time again. The dark and evil of the place seemed less severe because we had each other. Yet, our friendship was not untainted by the impurities of Northwood; our friendship was muddied by paranoia. Each time we saw each other could be the last.

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><p>Elizabeth slipped beside me on the mattress. Her cold fingers found mine and they were shaking violently. Elizabeth was always afraid of the evening on Tuesday nights. Those were the nights she was taken away by Doctor Burgess. I was taken away on Thursdays. We never discussed what happened on those nights because we never needed to. Sometimes, if we were lucky, Doctor Burgess would find another patient to dissect or play with. This was Elizabeth's intent that night.<p>

"Here," I said, throwing my thin blanket onto her shoulders. "It's far too cold for you to do without a blanket."

"What about you?" She asked, feebly. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm fine," I said. "I'll _be _fine as long as I know you're not with Burgess." She didn't reply. She didn't need to. I tried to take her mind off of the darker subjects that were no doubt leaking into the corners of her mind.

"Have you met with any of the new girls?" I asked.

"Yes," she nodded. It was customary for Elizabeth and me to greet the girls coming into Northwood. We tried to make them feel at ease, though we felt dishonest for lulling them into a false sense of security. Insanity was a phantom disease in London. It was sweeping the streets and affecting every one right and left, though there were few who actually suffered from it. There were fewer still that were coming to Northwood to receive the "treatment" offered at our humble institution. Most of the girls were normal and frightened. Elizabeth and I always did what we could to make them feel welcome.

"There was a young girl who was quite frightened, the poor dove," she said softly. She began to play with her curls. "She didn't say much when I attempted to converse. She repeated a phrase- it was Latin, I believe- over and over."

"I studied Latin briefly at home," I said, perking up a little. "Perhaps I could translate."

"_Hoheo taralna rondero tarel_," Elizabeth said slowly, "That's what it sounded like, anyway." I furrowed my brow, trying to think back to the days I'd spent as a young girl. I realized I really only knew medical terms, and a very few at that.

"I'm not familiar with it," I said, shaking my head. Elizabeth smiled slowly, her green eyes beginning to sparkle.

"Well, there is a lovely horror story behind the meaning, or so I am told," she grinned. Elizabeth had always been one for ghost stories. The fantasy of it all, however dark, was always able to take her mind off her own surroundings. I always loved to listen to the ones that she would tell. I would listen for hours on end. For me, it was the fear. The fear helped me to feel alive.

"Do tell," I giggled. Elizabeth sat up, cross-legged, her eyes still glinting with excitement. I followed suit, sitting up as well, and drew my knees close to my chest.

"One of the other girls explained that this phrase granted mortals the power to summon a demon," Elizabeth said, speaking quickly. "What you must do is find a spider's web on which the morning dew has gathered. You must wear that as a veil over an honest face and repeat the Latin phrase. The demon will appear, though its true form in unknown to mortals. Some believe it is a disguised angel, some a fairy, some a monstrous beast."

The story was weak, probably made up, but for some reason the idea sent chills down my spine. Elizabeth was an excellent storyteller, but if a story lacked real substance there was little she could do to make up for it. The cool feeling seeping through my limbs and racking me with chills had little to do with Elizabeth's skills as a storyteller. Summoning demons, angels, or fairies was definitely only talk you'd expect to hear pouring from the mouth of a loon. Yet, the idea intrigued me. At the same time, I was frightened.

"You make a promise to this demon," Elizabeth continued, cutting off my thoughts."It will fulfill its duty to you if you promise something in return."

"What must you promise?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Elizabeth shrugged, grinning even wider.

"No one knows."

"Hmmf," I scoffed, lying back down on my side. "It's just a lunatic's tale," I said, pushing the idea from my mind. "If it were real, I would make this demon free us."

"But what if it _was_ real?" she asked. "What if we tried summoning it? Surely this demon could release us. And not only us, but all the other girls as well. Perhaps we could arrange for Burgess' death. Just imagine," she sighed.

"Elizabeth," I said, chiding with no real force. I wished for all those things just as much as she. There were times when I wanted my freedom so badly I know I'd do anything for it, even if it meant selling my soul.

"Do you think me wicked?" she asked softly. "I know I shouldn't wish death upon others, but the man is absolutely horrid."

"You're not wicked," I said. "We just can't place our faith in wild stories, alright? We'll find a way out of here somehow." Elizabeth smiled, though it didn't appear that she set much stock by my words. I couldn't blame her. We'd been formulating escape plans for the past six years, failing every time.

If only Elizabeth's story of demons were true.

"Miss Todd," a slick voice purred from our doorway. It was Burgess. He'd found Elizabeth. Upon realizing she'd been discovered, her face went very pale and her fingers squeezed my hand.

"Yes, sir?" she asked in a quiet voice. He gave her a sickening smile. I wanted nothing more than to slam his face against the grimy brick wall. The sight of him disgusted me and filled me with incomparable rage.

"How are you feeling this evening?" he asked, stepping too close to us. I was so discomforted by his presence I feared I might vomit on his shoes.

"I am well," Elizabeth responded, casting her eyes to the ground.

"Are you ready for your treatment?" he asked. She nodded, standing. Burgess stepped forward, attaching a thin brown leash to the Elizabeth's collar and promptly leading her out of the room. She cast me one last glance before she left.

Sleep evaded me the rest of that evening. My head was only filled with thoughts of escape and the prayer that this demon might actually exist.


	3. Death Sentence

I never liked to dwell much on the past. I never used to like to hope for better things. I found it to be cumbersome and pointless. I knew if I wanted for good to happen to me, I'd have to take matters into my own hands. As of late, however, I found my thoughts drifting back to my father. I hadn't realized how much I missed him.

Despite placing me in my current circumstances, he was a good man. He loved my mother and, when she died, I feared he might never recover. I did my best to cheer him, as did that awful governess of mine, though nothing seemed to work. Over time, we must have done _some_ good, for he came around and was back to his normal jovial self.

I can remember the countless hours he spent humoring me. Being a count, he must have had a great number of things to do, though spending time with me was always at the top of his priorities. He would take me into town with him, teach me croquet, race me down the banister, and take frequent walks with me in our garden.

Oh, how I wished to be able to feel a cool breeze on my cheek again. Being an inmate was difficult. Of course you would never be allowed outside, for fear you'd escape and terrorize the whole of London. There were windows at Northwood, but they were far from cheery. They were barred and the sills were lined with countless dead insects. I didn't fear insects, nor did I detest them, they were a part of life at Northwood. In an odd way, they were my company.

I sighed realizing how strong my desire was to leave this place. My thoughts drifted back to Elizabeth's story. It had been a week since she'd told it, and I'd had time to meet the mumbling girl. There was something fascinating yet frightening about the whole thing. I had received the news, only recently, that she had died peacefully in her sleep. I couldn't help but think she was lucky.

The girl had a strange marking on the back of her neck, or so the rumor goes. I had never seen it, but some of the other girls swear that it was a pentagram shape. They assure me that she must have done it to herself, due to her madness. After discussing it at length, Elizabeth and I concluded that the girl _must _have received it from the demon. This fact led me to believe a little more firmly that, perhaps, the story was true. I knew I must be desperate to believe such things, yet I simply could not help myself.

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><p>"One of you is in desperate need for a surgery," Burgess said, pacing the hall. Girls were crowding together to listen, not out of respect, but out of fear. Receiving surgery almost always meant death. If you were unfortunate enough to survive, you lived unable to function in society. I never knew what exactly happened in a surgery; I was informed I'd had one when I was younger, though the doctors at Northwood had done nothing more than poke around in my brain. Subconsciously, I felt my fingers trail across the thick scar located above my left eyebrow.<p>

"There is an abnormality in the brain, a side effect of your _disease_," he said slowly, the word insanity was taboo in Northwood, "That causes you to speak uncontrollably. As such, you begin to fill your head with lies. The lies will soon travel to other girls' head's as well. Lies, as you know, are unfit for a lady."

I rolled my eyes, but I felt a tight knot form in my stomach. The story that Elizabeth and I had heard was exactly the sort of thing Burgess didn't want to hear circulating at Northwood. It gave girls hope, no matter how dark it was. Would the poor girl who'd told the tale be punished? She'd only been here a week, and her friend had already died. Hadn't she been through quite enough?

Burgess' pacing stopped. His cold eyes scanned the room. They lingered for a moment on mine, giving me enough time to panic before they moved on. The room was covered in a thick silence, everyone waiting to hear who would be the unlucky girl.

"Elizabeth Todd," he said, after a moment's hesitation, "You will be cured tonight."

My despair was even worse than before. Older girls at Northwood rarely had to go through surgeries; it just wasn't the way things were done. Older girls were usually the doctors' favorites, so nothing was done that would bring them to harm. Yet, Burgess must have overheard our conversation about demons and escape. He must have heard other girls whispering about it, too. How I wish he'd chosen me for surgery instead of Elizabeth. I felt as though the blame could be thrown on me as well. I laced my fingers in between Elizabeth's cold, unresponsive ones. She was, of course, too shocked to know what to say.

What _are_ you supposed to say when faced with death?


	4. Hoheo Taralna

"I'm not just going to sit idly by," I told Elizabeth, pacing furiously. "There must be _something_ we can do." Elizabeth watched my distress in silence for a moment, a sad smile framing her pretty face. She shook her head slowly.

"We've got to sneak out," I said, realization hitting me. I knew I was desperate, but at this moment, I was willing to try anything in order to secure Elizabeth's salvation.

"What on Earth are you suggesting?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes widening with fear. That was the largest response I'd been able to get out of the poor dear all day. I grinned.

"We're going to summon a demon," I said. "We're going to summon a demon and save your life." Elizabeth shook her head vigorously, her pretty chestnut curls bouncing about.

"I won't let you get in trouble on my behalf," she said, firmly. "And besides, that's just a story. We can't know that it's true."

"Elizabeth," I sighed in exasperation, "You would do the same for me. " I knew she would. Her protests fell silent as I explained my logic.

"Even if the story about the demon isn't true, don't you think it's worth a shot? It's sure as hell better than letting them kill you!" I was surprised at myself. I had become so swept up in passion that I was no longer speaking like myself. Though I didn't live in high society anymore, I still liked to behave as was fitting of my station, just in case I was lucky enough to return home.

Elizabeth was shocked with my behavior as well, stiffening slightly at my language.

"We can't give up now," I said, taking her hand. I softened my voice and made a conscious effort to control my language. "We'll get home somehow, and we'll do it _together_."

"I don't deserve to call you my friend," Elizabeth said with a slow smile. She squeezed my hand, the relief quite apparent on her face.

"Oh, hush," I said, walking to the window. Windows were an odd feature at Northwood. I've heard most asylums have none or very few. The windows at Northwood are plentiful, and have quite the breathtaking view when one has the desire to look or notice. I opened the window, ignoring the awful creaking noise it was making. It was growing dark outside. Elizabeth and I didn't have much time. I sensed Elizabeth come up behind me and peer out the window.

"We can make it if we jump," she said, measuring the distance from the ground to the window. She spoke slowly as though she were unsure of herself, but walked closer to the window. I moved aside and let her stand on the sill. She gathered her skirts to her torso and gave me a parting glance before plummeting over the edge of the sill. I watched as she landed on the ground below the window, wincing only slightly. She straightened and motioned for me to follow suit. I did so.

The feeling of falling was quite thrilling. I hadn't ever imagined jumping out a window. Now I felt rather foolish. Elizabeth and I had planned escape routes for years, getting caught each time we tried one. I cursed my stupidity for not thinking to jump out the window. A cool breeze rushed past my face and my heart was racing. I hadn't been outside for almost as long as I could remember. The freshness of it all was exhilarating.

When my body hit the ground with a soft thud, I had the strange urge to lay there for several moments, relishing in the feel of the grass. The smell of the grass. The sound of the wind. The chirp of the birds. How miserable my confinement had been!

I got to my feet as quickly as I could manage. I took Elizabeth's hand, and we ran. We had room to run. For no reason at all, we found ourselves laughing as we lighted off to the forested area behind Northwood. As soon as we entered the safety of the trees, we collapsed out of breath and entirely joyful.

"Tempest," Elizabeth said after a moment of blissful silence. "What do you suppose the demon will look like?" Her question made me stop. I had never really given much thought to the subject.

"I'm sure it will look quite ghastly," I said. "It may not even look human." All of the descriptions I'd heard of demons, with their flaming red eyes and their immense black figures, were quite intimidating. I was glad I wasn't about to summon a demon on my own.

"I always thought demons would look like we do," Elizabeth said softly. "There would be something different about them, certainly. Perhaps it would be something in their eyes. But I always imagined demons looked something like humans."

I giggled, "Do you think our demon will be handsome, then?" Elizabeth blushed, but rolled her eyes.

"It's possible," she said, joining in with my giggling. "Perhaps he will be tall with dark hair and an air of mystery."

"And he will be polite and gentlemanly," I added. My own mental image of a frightening demon was replaced with a gentler, milder version. Making a deal with a demon didn't seem to be frightening anymore. Perhaps if the demon _were_ human, things would be incredibly easy to tolerate.

Elizabeth and I added to our list, talking and giggling, giddy with our surroundings. We had been engrossed in our conversation that we lost track of time. The stars were starting to wink down at us. A bubble of panic rose in my throat as I heard angry voices approaching our direction. Elizabeth, who had been lying on her back, bolted upright.

Wordlessly, we stood and sought shelter. We each crouched behind the largest tree we could find, praying that the doctors would not find us. How could we have been so foolish as to let time escape like that? We had a window of opportunity that we took entirely for granted.

My heart rate increased, though before I had thought it physically impossible. I heard deep voices, one I recognized as Burgess. That was when it seemed as though my heart stopped. If Burgess was out looking for us, then there was certainly no hope, should we be discovered.

"-Around here somewhere," Burgess fumed. "They don't just _disappear_. I want you to check behind every tree in the whole forest if you have to. Our reputation will be ruined should those girls be discovered by anyone but us."

I wished Elizabeth was closer to my side. In the thick darkness and mist of my own panic, I wasn't sure where she was anymore. I held my breath, keeping as still as possible. I couldn't hear Burgess anymore. Perhaps the coast was clear-

"Dahlia," a voice whispered in my ear. My heart jumped out of my chest in despair, fright, shock, and sorrow. Burgess had discovered me.

"Dahlia Grimm, you know you are not to wander off the grounds," he said in his dangerously soft voice. He clipped a leather leash to my collar. I gritted my teeth. I hated when he called me by my given name. I hated when he talked to me. I hated when he looked at me. But most of all, I hated being at the end of his leash.

He began to drag me back to Northwood with ease. I was much smaller than he, and far less as nourished.

"That was foolish of you, you know," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Miss Todd needs her surgery. Running away will not make her mental condition better, and yours will not simply disappear either." I knew better than to snap back at Burgess, but it was taking every ounce of willpower within me to prevent myself from doing so.

He led me up to the highest floor. My heart sank. I was to be locked in the Cage. The Cage was a room so nicknamed because the walls were bars, the window was barred, and there was hardly any room to move about. It was a room used for punishment and every girl at Northwood had come to despise it.

"You'll wait here for me," he said, roughly pushing me inside. "Once I'm finished with Miss Todd, I'll deal with you."

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><p><strong><span>A\N:<span>** I would just like to take a moment and thank everyone for all the lovely reviews that made me smile, as well as the alerts and faves! You are so wonderful! *HUGS* Anyways, plot-wise, the next chapter or two are going to be incredibly dark (so be warned) and may take me a bit longer to write. I wasn't planning on posting a new chapter every day... but I can't help myself! Buuuut, I can definently smell Claude coming (hooray!) can you? ;) I'm thinking of doing a chapter in his point of view (especially so that you can "see" what Tempest looks like) but that's not a for sure thing right now. Also, on my deviantart account (I have a link in my profile) I am planning on posting my rendition of Tempest because I'm kinda addicted to drawing her. :) I will let you know when that's up, if you wanna check it out. But, for now, peace out!


	5. What Was Lost

**A\N:** Once again, thanks for all the lovely reviews! As a writer, reviews are my sustenance and are always much appreciated!

Anyway, this is the chapter where I have to break out the warnings. This chapter itself I would probably categorize as 'M' because it deals with rape (it has a purpose, I promise! I'm not doing it to be a pervert!). It's nothing too graphic, but rape is rape (and nobody likes it!). So you have been warned.

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><p>The hours that passed seemed just as long as years. I was shrouded in a cold silence, pacing back and forth in the Cage, taking only two or three steps as there was little room. I listened for something, anything to drive away the silence. My mind wandered to Elizabeth's pain. I couldn't imagine the horrors she was experiencing. I didn't want to either.<p>

When I eventually heard footsteps on the coo stone floor, my heart sank. Burgess was coming for me. It wasn't punishment I feared. In fact, I would prefer for him to punish me, to incite some sort of feeling from my slowly numbing extremities.

As he entered the room, Burgess held a smug looking smile on his face. His usually crisp, white jacket was slightly stained with blood. The sight made me want to vomit. Burgess paid no mind to my apparent disgust and proceeded to unlock the Cage. Once again I was put on the end of his leash and led along.

"I'm sure you're curious as to how Elizabeth's surgery went?" he asked as he led me down the cold halls. I said nothing. I was curious what had happened, though I had hardly any hope that she would be alright. Having Burgess reaffirm my doubts would probably be the worst thing that could happen.

"You may see her if you like," he said, stopping in front of large doors. The doors were thrust open and I was pushed inside.

Elizabeth was lying- quite still- on a bed. Hesitantly, I inched forward, praying that she would be alright. She had stitches sewn quite messily across her forehead. Her eyes were cloudy, and I became uncertain that she could even see me. I gently took her hand and whispered her name, not wanting to give Burgess too much of a reaction. Elizabeth hardly responded to my touch. Her fingers were ice cold and stiff. She wasn't dead, I could see her small chest fluttering, but I knew she couldn't last much longer. Forgetting for a moment that Burgess was present, I rested my head on her shoulder, sobbing a little. I hadn't wanted it to end this way. I hadn't wanted to remain in Northwood without Elizabeth. She was the only person in this world that I could have called my friend. And now she was taken from me, hardly responding to anything I did.

I felt a tug on my leash; Burgess was ready to press on. Reluctantly, I released Elizabeth's fingers and bid a silent goodbye.

Burgess' quarters, as well as all of the other doctors', were lavish and frivolous when compared to the rest of Northwood. Wordlessly, I looked around the room. I wished I could feel something, _anything_, but no feeling came. I was merely an empty shell. Burgess shut the door tightly behind him.

"You're quite a curious girl, Dahlia," Burgess said, walking toward me. He picked me up and placed me on the end of his bed. He stood for a moment eyeing me curiously. I wanted to hit him, but I couldn't drive up enough anger. I was in a dangerously apathetic mood. I merely returned his stare as he continued to speak.

"You're far different from the other girls here," he stepped closer, his face inches from mine. "I do regret that we had to operate on Miss Todd, but her condition wasn't improving. The operation was indeed worth a try."

He was such a liar.

"Perhaps I can find a way to make you forgive me?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. Yet, his eyes didn't hold any hatred. They held a dull look I couldn't quite define or understand. I'd never seen this look before, but didn't get much time to ponder. Burgess had crushed his lips to mine, seriously testing my gag reflex. I stiffened, but did not draw away. There would be no point. If Burgess wanted me, he would take me. I had been around long enough to recognize that.

"I'm afraid I will never forgive you," I whispered as he pulled away. My numbness had faded slightly and turned to disgust. Burgess smiled, holding his ground. His hands trailed slowly down my back as the buttons of my dress were unclasped. I wanted to scream at him, but my voice seemed to have left me.

"I'm quite sure you'll come around," he said, placing a kiss on my neck. Sensation was returning in the most horrid way. Burgess' touch sent unpleasant chills down my spine. I was on my back, Burgess' weight pressing down on me. He lifted my skirts slightly and slid my stockings off my legs. I didn't fight him. I didn't resist. If I succumbed, the whole ordeal would be over with quickly. I simply closed my eyes and prayed that would happen.

Burgess guided me to a sitting position again, and lifted my fingers to his vest, wordlessly telling me what he wanted. His mouth was still eagerly kissing mine, though I still gave no response. We shed layers of clothing until we were nothing but piles of skin. The feeling of disgust was building up in me with such intensity I wasn't sure I'd be able to bear it. I had to, I knew. I hated to think what Burgess would do should I resist.

To him, no part of me was private. He needn't ask for permission to explore. And he didn't. I did my best to place my mind elsewhere. I didn't want to dwell on what was happening to me, what was happening to my world. When I turned my thoughts that way, I began to drown in my own despair. Really the only though that was keeping me alive was the story of the demon. I wished more than anything that demon would save me, but of course no one came. I was alone in this ordeal.

The pain I experienced physically was entirely different from anything else. And it would not stop. It seemed as though Burgess would never be satiated. That he would swallow me whole if he could. The soft moans that escaped his throat only worsened my feelings of nausea. His lust was sickening. A lady would never find herself in such a situation. The only man she would give herself to was her husband. That is how I imagined it would happen to me; I would settle down at one point in my life. I would give myself fully and completely to my husband. But now, who would want me? I was a vile creature who suffered from insanity. There would be no suitors knocking at my door. There would be no men standing around waiting to get my attention.

No one would desire me. No one.

As I lay beside Burgess, his soft snores filling the room, I had a new resolve. My innocence. Elizabeth. Both had been ripped from my fingers, and I was determined to make everyone pay. I would avenge myself and Elizabeth, as well as all the other girls here at Northwood. And I knew exactly how to do it.

I had to find my demon.


	6. Rondero Tarel

My feet hit the cool stone floor. I couldn't take it anymore; I had to see Elizabeth. I had to. I knew that Burgess was enjoying sleep too much to notice I would be gone. Quietly, I slipped back into the other room. Elizabeth had been laying in the same position she had been before. As I stepped closer I could hear her sobbing gently. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. Her cloudy eyes searched frantically for a moment, eventually giving up when she couldn't see me.

"Who?" she asked. Her voice was deeper and sharper than before, and it was obvious she was having a harder time with speech than she used to.

"Elizabeth, it's me," I whispered gently, hugging her. She blinked, but didn't respond to my name. It shouldn't have surprised me that she was unable to recognize me anymore, but it did. It hurt more than any pain I'd ever experienced. Was Elizabeth going to die without remembering me at all?

Ignoring my own pain, I gently climbed beside her on the bed, brushing her tears away with my hand. I lay down beside her, sharing my blanket. The poor dear was shivering. I took one of her quivering hands in my own in an attempt to comfort her. Oh, how I wished she'd remember me.

"What's bothering you, Elizabeth?" I asked. Elizabeth snuggled closer to me, resting her head against my shoulder. I could practically feel the heat radiating from her forehead. Her stitches were definitely infected, not to mention the fact that they looked incredibly painful.

"The lights," she breathed. She squeezed my hand. "They've all gone out."

It was in that moment that I knew without a doubt: Elizabeth and I would _not_ leave Northwood together. To do so would be impossible. She would be lucky to last the night, and if she did, she would never be released. She was no longer the sweet, fragile girl I knew; she had become a typical crazed and incoherent inmate.

She turned to me, her eyes wide.

"You'll save her, yes?" she asked. Her voice was urgent. I looked at her, puzzled. I couldn't believe that Elizabeth was completely gone. There had to be _some_ sense to what she was saying.

"Save who?" I asked patiently.

"Save Dahlia," she said. Her pale lips twisted into a smile. Not her usual innocent pretty one, but a sick one. "Save Tempest."

Though I shouldn't have been pleased with the circumstances, I was. Elizabeth at least remembered who I was. She may not have recognized that I was with her, but she at least wanted to make sure that I would be okay. That was more than I felt I deserved. After all, it was partly my fault that she was in this condition in the first place. If I hadn't pressured her to go with me to summon the demon, neither of us would have been in the predicaments we found ourselves in.

I kissed the top of Elizabeth's head, tears sliding down my face. I had never really deserved to have her as my friend, though I was incredibly fortunate to call her such. She had been my strength while I was here at Northwood. Now, she was my determination to break free. I would avenge her. I would avenge all the girls here who died for nothing. Who were treated like lab rats or toys of pleasure. None of us deserved that.

Elizabeth Todd died in my arms that night and I was certain a piece of me went with her. I was glad I was there for her, even if she didn't know it was me. In an odd way, I was happy she was gone. She no longer had to suffer here. I was almost envious of her. Life would be so much simpler and much less painful if it was over. Not that I would take my own life, of course. I had an important task ahead of me.

* * *

><p>I was not permitted to go to Elizabeth's funeral. It would be preposterous to let someone as irreverent as an inmate to attend a funeral. Thus, I was trapped at Northwood while Burgess and a few other doctors- who never really loved Elizabeth- went to her burial.<p>

The only good that came out of the situation was that I now had a window for escape. With Burgess gone, I would have an easier time making my escape. Eagerly, I walked to the window in my room. I looked down at the ground. It seemed so far away without Elizabeth there to comfort me. Yet, I stepped up on the ledge ignoring my heart's incredibly fast pace. What did it matter if the ground was too far away? If I made it, I could finally meet my demon. If I didn't, I would be reunited with Elizabeth. Either way, I would win.

I fell to the ground below with a familiar thud. I gave myself no time to relish in the feeling of the cool grass, or any of my surroundings for that matter. I stood quickly and ran into the vast expanse of the woods. I had the whole day to myself, and there was really no need for the rush. However, I was entirely too eager to complete my task, to taste my revenge.

_Find a spider's web on which the morning dew has gathered._ My eyes were searching everywhere for the glistening silver of a spider web. Spiders' webs were all too common at Northwood. I found it rather odd that they seemed to be scarce here. I walked slowly, searching. In a glorious moment, my eyes fell upon the glinting silver of a dew covered spider web. I walked closer to it, to make sure it was real. It was.

_Wear that as a veil over an honest face_. I stepped into the web, letting the cool damp threads cover my face. It was an oddly comforting sensation. I had no desire to wipe the web away. In fact, I felt as though I would be comfortable letting it sit there for an eternity. The cool of the web gently melted to match the warmth of my face, creating a soothing feel on my cheeks. I closed my eyes.

"Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel," I spoke each word slowly and clearly. I repeated the phrase two more times, keeping my eyes shut. My heart was pounding. I had never really mentally prepared myself for the fact that I was about to be face to face with a demon. A demon that was faceless, nameless, and had infinite amounts of power.

Cautiously, I opened one eye, realizing that I would look like an idiot should the demon decide to appear. As I looked around, I saw no one. I was slightly surprised, but more than anything I felt lost. I should have known it was nothing more than a story. I should know better than to believe in demons.

Or perhaps the story was true, but I'd done something wrong? Was my face dishonest? Would it not work because I was no longer pure? Perhaps I had pronounced the words wrong. I stood, glued to my spot, entirely unsure of what my next move was going to be. I had my entire revenge riding on this plan. This glorious failed plan.

I became acutely aware of the gray falling from the sky. Ash? I looked around, though I could see no smoke. There was nothing burning. I dared to let my hopes rise once more.

All at once, my surroundings became black. I could see nothing. I was acutely aware of a sharp pain in my wrists. I glanced over at them, realizing that they were bound by a slivery cord. It had to be a spider's web, but how could I have become entrapped in one this large? Was it the demon's doing? I took a deep breath, waiting. Waiting for my demon to show his face and for my glorious revenge to begin.


	7. The Spider's Web

**A\N: **Just to clear up any questions, this small, short chapter is in Claude's POV. Yay for Claude ;)

* * *

><p><em>She was incredibly young. I wasn't entirely sure as to what I should think. I was used to older, greedy humans contracting with me, certainly not children.<em>

_And she appeared to be so innocent. She had large violet eyes shimmering with a hint of fear, skin so pale it appeared as though it had never been in the sunlight before, her fiery hair was short and jagged- falling only to about the middle of her neck. She looked at me, her expression difficult to read._

"_You came," she said, her voice incredibly soft._

"_What is it that you desire of me?" I asked, ignoring her earlier statement. The girl would probably have no idea what she wanted. I wasn't about to become contracted to an imbecile. Her innocent looking face twisted into a smile. A smile that seemed unnatural yet quite beautiful at the same time. Perhaps she did know what she wanted. _

"_Would you show me your face?" she asked. Her voice was soft and hardly commanding. I assumed I had the right to decline._

"_Child," I said, doing my best to keep from laughing. "My true face is one that would haunt you for the rest of your days."_

"_I'm not afraid," she said sticking her chin out at a stubborn angle. Her words were useless, for I could smell the fear dripping off of her. There was also an air of courage about the girl. She was very collected._

_I never liked my human form. I felt incredibly weak, though I still possessed strength that surpassed any mortal. Yet, I was willing to humor this girl. I willingly shed the freedom of my true form and allowed myself to become constricted in the likeness of a mortal. I moved closer to the girl. She studied my face._

"_So you _can_ look like us," she said._

"_But I'm nothing like you," I said gritting my teeth. I could tell the girl was on edge. She writhed uncomfortably within my web, the slender threads cutting into her arms, trails of scarlet contrasting with her pale skin. I inhaled her scent; it was bittersweet. I suddenly realized how hungry I was. I hadn't fed in a while, and this girl was- so far- proving to be an excellent choice for my next meal. I ran my thumb gently across her lips, smiling to myself. This girl could surely make a ripple in the life of a demon._


	8. Contract

"I shall serve dutifully as your butler until the time you can achieve your revenge, doing whatever is within my power to help," he said, bowing his head.

"I've never been fond of servants nor hired help," I told him quickly. "That aside, your power is far greater than mine. It would hardly be fitting for you to act as my servant." I didn't want the demon to think that I would ever think of myself as above him. I certainly was not.

"Then," he said slowly, "if you deny my servitude, what would you have me do?"

"Pose as my doctor." The demon looked at me, puzzled by my request. "You needn't actually cure me; I am not ailed by any disease. It seems a little more fitting that an inmate return home with a doctor, rather than a butler," I explained briefly.

"What do you intend to do once you've escaped the place?" he asked, a curiosity glinting in his golden eyes.

"I have no set plan," I said plainly. "I just wish to cause suffering to all those who caused me to suffer." His lips curved gently upward. He was silent for a beat, pondering over the information he'd just received. I waited with baited breath, unsure of what I would do should this plan fail.

"You're quite a curious girl, Dahlia," he said softly, his eyes still glinting curiously.

"Tempest," I said correcting him softly. "I changed it. I despise my given name."

"Shall we contract, then Tempest?" he asked, his voice incredibly soft. I hesitated. I had finally learned the price for a demon's services. It was quite a daunting promise. I was going to sign my soul away, should I agree to this. It shouldn't matter, I felt my innocence had been stripped from me on multiple occasions. Yet, I was hesitating. It was odd to say the least, but I found my tongue moving before my mind had fully thought out my answer.

"I will contract with you." My voice shook a little more than I wanted it to, but the demon took no notice. His yellow colored eyes began to glint red and he disappeared behind me. I wasn't sure what I was to expect next. I felt gentle lips at my shoulder. Their softness was contrasted by a sharp pain. It felt as though I were being stabbed. I closed my eyes and made no sound.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the woods. The sun was shining brightly and there was no sign of the ash, the spider web, or the demon. The only proof I had that the whole thing was not merely a hallucination was the faint stabbing pain in my shoulder blade. I twisted my neck to look and see what exactly had been done. Where there was once pale skin, was now a five pointed star encircled by gold. I smiled to myself, and pulled my filthy dress over my shoulder.

As I stood to walk back to Northwood, I was overcome by the sudden desire to laugh. I did so, holding nothing back. Some of the drastic changes taking place within myself were frightening; I had just sold my soul to a demon, and yet I was as carefree as a bird. I supposed it didn't really matter. If I had my revenge, who cares what happened to me? The demon could have my soul ten times over if the taste revenge was just as satisfying as I thought it would be.

I was surprised when I neared the edge of the woods; several doctors were out on the grounds, searching. They shouldn't be looking for me; I hadn't been gone nearly long enough. I was surprised when I was tackled to the ground, my arms and legs pinned by the doctor on top of me. I was irritated and wished the demon were around.

"I've found her, Doctor," the man pinning me down called out. Perhaps I had made the wish to see the demon too soon. I was pulled to my feet and face to face with the demon. Curiously, I drank in his human form. He was mysteriously handsome, with long unruly black hair tied back into a ponytail. His doctor's jacket hung on his muscular frame quite loosely. His eyes. His golden eyes met mine, and a small smile lit his lips.

"Miss Grimm," he said in a poisonously soft voice. "I've been searching all over for you. I've come to collect you from Northwood."

"Ah, sir," the doctor who had pinned me to the ground spoke up. "The punishment for running away is a day's confinement in the Cage. We can't reinforce negative behaviors, you understand." I looked into his eyes, praying that he'd find a way to keep me out of that cursed place. He merely smiled at me.

"Yes," he said softly. "I quite understand. I thank you for your assistance, but I can manage her from here," the demon said, grabbing my arm. The other doctors scattered back inside Northwood. I walked arm in arm with the demon, fuming.

"Something bothers you, my lady?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. I glowered at him, though it was hard to feel angry towards a being that was superior to you in every way. I looked away. It was easier to stay angry if I wasn't looking at him.

"You're letting me go back to that damned Cage?" I asked him. "I thought I asked you to get me _out_."

"You did," he said. "You also asked for me to help you extract revenge. Northwood is the obvious place to start. I've merely bought you more time." I sighed. He was right. I hadn't thought of that. Though I had expected to get revenge _without_ being confined to the Cage.

"You won't leave me in the Cage _alone_, will you, Doctor Faustus?" I asked, glancing up at him. He stiffened slightly at the name I had given him. "You don't like it?" I asked.

"I'm merely puzzled at your selection, my lady," he said. I shrugged.

"We've formed a Faustian contract, have we not?" I asked. "It just seemed… fitting."

"Indeed," said the demon, nodding his head slowly. We walked in silence for a moment. I was only just becoming accustomed to the demon's presence. It would take time for me to adjust entirely. As of now, I felt aloof, yet I did not want to be alone.

"You'll not leave me to rot in the Cage," I said, my sentence formed as more of an inquiry than anything else. A smile pulled at the edges of the demon's lips.

"I'll never leave you, my lady," he assured me. "Not even when I devour your pretty little soul."

I wasn't quite sure as to whether the demon's last words were meant to be comforting. When picked apart, they were cold, cruel, and selfish. Yet, they were spoken with the utmost delicacy and tenderness, as though it was a phrase customary to utter to a lover.

I wasn't entirely sure what was to become of my situation now that a demon was my guardian, but in the pit of my stomach, I finally felt safe.

* * *

><p><strong><span>A\N<span>**: So in a word, my life has been a zoo. Sorry the updates have taken so long, and thank you for all of the positive feedback I'm getting! You guys are so wonderful! All I have to say is its about dang time Claude showed up! I'm sure he used different names in past lives, but just to keep things simple, I'm going to keep his name Claude in this story. Plus, I can't make Claude anything BUT Claude. I don't mess with sexy. :) I promise I will try to post more often (now that the people count in my house has gone down by three... we're now at 12 people! WOO! Never a dull moment.) unless Chemistry II decides to melt my brain again.

PS- On my DeviantART account (there's a link on my profile page) I have posted my picture of Tempest. Hooray! Feel free to check that out if you wanna. Thanks so much for being awesome people who review and put me on alert! :)


	9. Freedom

The demon was true to his word, keeping silent watch while I sat in the Cage. His presence seemed to calm the roar of the silence and preventing my nerves from fraying. I felt it almost impossible to grasp that I was one step closer to getting revenge. There was conflict within my soul; I knew I would have to dirty my hands to taste sweet vengeance and I was slightly opposed, yet I hungered for that taste. I wanted it so bad; I hardly cared what price I had to pay. I had signed away my soul to a demon already, the consequences of my actions hardly mattered. The demon would protect me and prevent my death until I had completed my goal. My fate was already tied to the demon's.

The will for revenge still frightened me. I did not wish to become a killer. It wasn't within my nature. If I were responsible for one's death, I would be no different from Burgess or Townnesend. I would be just as cruel, just as selfish. And, in the end, even if I did succeed, what would be the point? The girls at Northwood would still have suffered, my mother and Elizabeth would still be dead, and I would merely succeed in adding myself to the list of deceased.

"My lady," the demon's purring voice interrupted my thoughts. "What is it exactly that you have planned for Northwood?" His yellow eyes looked into mine expectantly. My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't given much thought to the matter. I only knew I wanted to leave the place. I wanted the other girls to be able to leave, too. An idea came to me, one that was truly wicked, yet I had fantasized would happen over and over again.

"I want it burned to the ground," I said, feeling my lips curl into a smile. "The girls should be freed, but the doctors and this damned building should burn." A smile threatened to form at the edges of the demon's lips, bringing me an odd sense of satisfaction.

"You have no qualms about taking a life?" he asked. It was the question I had been pondering myself. I thought for a moment, praying the answer would come to me.

"The proper punishment for murderers," I began, "is death, is it not?" I had hoped the demon would answer in a way that would calm my doubts. He did not respond, he merely smiled and turned to the window. We sat in silence once more, only to be interrupted after several peaceful moments.

"Excuse me, doctor, but Burgess has returned," a young doctor said, giving the demon a curt nod. "If you wish to discuss Miss Dahlia's release I can arrange that he meet with you."

"Thank you," the demon said, walking toward the Cage. "Miss Grimm and I shall be joining you shortly, then." The young doctor nodded and closed the door. The demon swiftly unbarred the Cage door, allowing me to step out into the room.

"Now is the time," the demon said with a smile. He sank to one knee and looked up at me with his clear yellow eyes. "Ask of me what you will."

"Release the girls," I said, returning his stare. "Burn everything and everyone else. I'll be with Burgess." A searing pain built up on my shoulder once more. I slipped my sleeve down and saw that the golden pentagram placed there earlier that day appeared to be glistening with light. I looked back at the demon, catching a glimpse of his eyes before he bowed his head. They had returned to their deep, lusty scarlet, the golden pentagram reflected in one of them.

"As you wish, my lady," he said softly. He glanced back up at me before he stood, his scarlet eyes blending back into the yellow. He exited the room quickly, leaving me to myself. My heart began to race as I turned to walk down the stairs to Burgess' office. Yet, I had a newfound confidence. I was finally going to leave this place behind me. Forever.

* * *

><p>Burgess glanced up from his papers as I entered the room. A small, curt smile formed on his lips as I sat across from him. I returned the smile smugly.<p>

"I hear you've a doctor come to take you home," he said softly. "We'll be sad to see you go. That is, if the doctor has the credentials to take you away. You do realize you're not fully cured." I laughed. Burgess actually believed he was going to win this battle. Though, I suppose he had no idea who or what he was competing against.

"I think you'll find he has more than the needed authority to call for my release," I said. Burgess' false charm melted a little. He walked toward me and sat on the edge of his large mahogany desk.

"Dahlia, you must realize I only have your best interests at heart," he said, trying to keep his calm. "You cannot expect me to send you off with a complete stranger claiming to be a doctor. I want to make sure you're well again. I care about you just as much your father does," he said, softly.

"Don't compare yourself to my father," I spat. I stood. Not having to restrain my emotions in front of Burgess was refreshing. "He's nothing like you. I haven't suffered at his hands like I've suffered here."

"Yet your father was the one who sent you here," said Burgess smugly. "If Northwood is indeed the cause of your suffering, so is your father. You wouldn't be here were it not for him."

"He wouldn't have sent me if he'd known what a despicable place this is," I said darkly. I could tell I was putting Burgess on edge. This was the first time an inmate had spoken their mind to him and he was upset that he was losing control. To hide his frustration, he laughed, threw his hands in his pockets, and retreated to the back of his desk, sitting down in his large chair.

"I suppose I'm merely surprised at your desire to leave," Burgess said, laughing a little. I scoffed. "You seemed to be getting along just fine. And we seemed to have such an understanding, such a _connection_," he looked at me through heavily lidded eyes, an awful smirk spreading across his face. I slammed my fists angrily against his desk.

"You bastard!" I exclaimed, tears spilling down my cheeks. The control of the conversation was back in his hands. He stood and I staggered backwards into my chair. My head was filling with the awful memories. Memories of what Burgess had taken from me, memories of what I would never get back. I wanted nothing more than to vomit.

"So you do remember," he smiled. "I'm afraid I cannot let you leave. I'll have to turn your charming doctor down. Unless you do not value your life."

"Excuse my tardiness," the demon interrupted, his gentle, lilting voice soothing my pain. I hurriedly brushed my tears away. I did not want to appear to be just another weak human. For some reason, I had the strange desire to impress this demon. Burgess straightened as well, assuming his falsely gentlemanlike manner once more. "I was assisting the patients," the demon further explained. He offered his hand to Burgess, introducing himself as Claude Faustus. I smiled to myself. I had not given the demon a first name and was pleased he had taken it upon himself to do so.

"I understand you wanted to discuss the release of Miss Grimm?" Burgess asked, his voice dripping in that poisonous honey tone of his.

"Yes," the demon began, but his sentence was cut off by a faint scream. Burgess' eyes widened, provoking a smile from the demon. "I think you'll find benefit in handing her over to me." Another scream, closer this time.

Burgess darted toward the door, intuitively suspecting the demon to be the cause of the screams. He tugged at the door, though it refused to open.

"Grab him," I ordered, quickly jumping to my feet. Before I could blink, the demon had returned Burgess to his chair. The demon tied Burgess to his chair with a slender, shimmering cord that he cut with his teeth. Burgess, wide-eyed and incoherent, began to struggle against the cord.

"I wouldn't struggle if I were you," the demon warned calmly, though his warning fell on deaf ears. It wasn't until Burgess' arms were covered in his own crimson blood that his struggles ceased. He glanced from the demon to me.

"You can leave," he said to me. "You can have anything you want, just spare me!" I had never expected Burgess to be the begging type, but seeing him sit there and beg for his life was oddly satisfying. I climbed on top of the desk, leaning in closer to his face.

"I want my innocence back," I said softly. "Are you going to give that back to me?" I asked. Burgess did not reply, the fear still apparent in his eyes.

"If I could-" he began. I cut him off with my sharp laughter. My answer had finally come; it did not bother me to take the life of this worm. I would take as many lives as I needed to. I was not getting revenge to make things better. I was getting revenge for my loved one's memories. I was getting my revenge because it was really all I had left to live for. It didn't matter how I achieved my goal, it only mattered that I succeeded.

"I suppose I owe you thanks," I said. "Because you've dirtied my soul, I've come to realize I want to stay that way. Because I am no longer pure, I can do whatever is necessary to rid myself of people like you." I kicked his chair over with my foot and climbed off his desk. "Let's go, Claude," I said, feeling extremely informal, addressing the demon by that human name. I was to giddy to care, at the moment. "The fire will catch up to this one, too," I said, jerking my head in Burgess' direction.

"Yes, my lady," Claude responded, following behind me.

"You're just going to leave me?" Burgess cried. He was truly pitiful.

"I'm merely doing as you requested; I'm not going to kill you," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "Though, I can't be too sure you'll survive the fire. What a tragic accident this will be."

The demon and I walked toward the window, the door no longer being a possible escape. We had to move quickly. The building was beginning to creak and groan, becoming engulfed in the licking heat. Calmly, the demon opened the window. I took a breath of fresh air, relishing in the fact that I would now be able to enjoy the breeze as often as I wanted.

Wordlessly, the demon scooped me up in his arms and leapt out the window. I would have protested, assuming the ground was too far for us to reach safely. However, I was glad I had kept my mouth shut. I was in the arms of a demon after all. While that thought should be frightening, it was not. Quite contrary, I felt secure. I would almost venture to say I felt happiness while the demon's arms encircled me.

We landed at a distance from Northwood. The demon set me gently on the ground. I stood silently for a moment drinking in the sight of Northwood's destruction. It was glorious to see the horrid old building engulfed in the scarlet heat. To see the infrastructure crumble. To know that the vermin that worked there were gone. I let out a laugh. I felt an immense weight lift itself from my chest as I continued to relish in the destruction.

I turned to face the demon, originally intending on thanking him for his services. I glanced into his eyes. They were inhuman and beautiful, gentle and cruel. They were clearly demon's eyes. Within his eyes, I saw the reflection of the flames. The shambles of Northwood. In the reflection of his eyes, the scene seemed all the more glorious. Perhaps it was because demons were creatures of destruction. Yet, I felt my breath catch in my throat. At the same time awe overcame me, so did a respectful fear. Demons were certainly odd creatures if they were willing to stoop so low as to serve humans. Perhaps the taste of a soul was worth it. I would have to inquire later.

"I plan on returning home," I said after a moment. The demon's eyes turned toward me. "But first there is need to stop in town. There are things I need before I return."

"Of course, my lady," he said bowing once more.

I had been under the belief I was summoning a demon. I found that I had summoned quite the contrary. Though this being was eventually going to be my downfall, I knew him to be my guardian angel.

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><p><strong><span>AN:** Well, that was long. :) I wasn't planning on updating so soon (I know, I'm a sinner O.o) but the urge hit me and so I cranked this baby out! Also, I want to thank every one SO MUCH for reviewing. You've provided me with figurative sustenance so that I can continue to press on in my writing! Yeah! At this point, the pace is about to pick up slightly, but since I don't have all of the plot details formed all the way in my brain (I know, I fail!) updates may take a little longer. Not to mention the fact that I have at least two other fics I am working on (plus all those blasted scholarship essays! GAH)... but I will do my best not to let you guys down! {cyber hugs}


	10. A Demon's Eyes

"My God, she was _there_?" The young reporter's eyes widened. I had decided to wait at Northwood until the proper help and publicity had arrived. It would be odd to find the remains of the asylum, with no sign of its previous inhabitants or any of the girls. The media would likely assume that the girls had set it on fire. The demon and I stayed to relay our own interpretation.

"Yes," the demon nodded. He'd been my voice so far and I didn't really mind. I clutched on to his white overcoat, trembling slightly, and timidly avoided the reporter's eyes. If the demon could successfully act his part, then I could as well.

"I had come to escort Miss Grimm home when I found Northwood ablaze," the demon continued smoothly. "The doctors were doing their best to get the girls out. As far as I know there were no patient casualties. Most unfortunately, however, many of the doctors did not make it out."

"How incredibly awful," the reporter was scribbling furiously on a small notepad. He fell silent for a moment, his eyes catching mine. His were the color of muddy water; they had the illusion of containing blue, but when you looked at them, all you saw was sadness.

"This has been Miss Grimm's second brush with death, has it not?" the reporter asked, his voice timid. "It's almost been eight years, hasn't it? Since Countess Grimm died, I mean."

"Yes, come this fall," I mumbled. I didn't have to feign shock in this instance. It was a surprise if anyone at all remembered my mother's death. It was hardly investigated, since Townnesend managed to cover' up the murder quite brilliantly.

"My condolences," he said, bowing his head. I shifted uncomfortably.

"If we're quite finished here, I really must escort Miss Grimm home," the demon spoke up, sensing my uneasiness. He turned and began to lead me away.

"Wait," the reporter called out, stopping us. "The least I can do is let you ride back to London in my coach. I'll be riding with you of course, but-"

"That's quite kind of you," I said, before the demon could refuse. "You have my gratitude, Mister-?"

"Bartholomew, my lady," he said, bowing slightly. "Bartholomew Caine."

The demon and I followed behind the young reporter, a wordless conversation passing between the two of us. I could sense that the demon was clearly on edge around the boy, and he was slightly annoyed that I was so calm. Yet, Bartholomew's words about my mother gave me an odd sense of peace that I couldn't quite explain.

The carriage ride was short and silent. I wasn't uncomfortable in the silence for once; it was not complete silence after all. I had the comfort of other people, I could hear the gravel crunching under the turning wheels, the tired sighs of the horses, the driver's incessant coughing. The noise was wonderful. I stared out the window watching the familiar wooded scene of Northwood give way to the jungle of the city. It had been years since I'd set foot in London. My father would take me sometimes, on holidays or when he had a short business trip. The sheer chaos of it all was pleasant.

As the demon and I exited the carriage, we gave our thanks to Mr. Bartholomew Caine and began walking down a crowded street. As I passed shops, memories of a happier time flooded back into my mind.

I walked quickly into a shop that my mother had taken me to plenty of times when I was a child. As the demon closed the door behind us, a familiar face greeted me. I had remembered the owner of the shop to be a kindly old woman, and that she was. She looked exactly the same as she had when I was a child. When her eyes found my face, she smiled broadly.

"Miss Grimm?" she asked, taking my hands in her withered ones. I nodded, causing her smile to widen. "Oh, it has been years. I haven't seen you since you were a child, and now look at you! Are you visiting from Northwood?" she asked, clearly aware that I had been sent to that hell all those years ago.

"No, ma'am," I said, smiling girlishly. "I'm coming home. Doctor Faustus is here to watch over me," I said, glancing at the demon out of the corner of his eye. He flashed the old woman a charming smile, causing his golden eyes to shine. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and quickly looked back to the woman.

"Oh, isn't that wonderful?" she said, genuinely pleased. "Your father will be so happy to have his little angel back. You know he came here every year that you were gone and bought a dress for your birthday?" she said, squeezing my hands tenderly.

How I had forgotten how much I had missed my father! It was not likely I'd find a man on this Earth that I would love more than my father. It touched me that he celebrated my birthday, even when I was not there to celebrate it with him. My father only came to London on rare occasions as he preferred the country, but he came to get gifts for my birthday. Gifts for his daughter who was insane. Gifts for his daughter who was no longer the innocent girl he had known. Gifts for his daughter who had signed her soul away to a demon…

"I just came to pick a dress so that I might change out of this awful one," I said, looking down at my current dress. At one point, it used to be white. I hadn't realized how truly filthy it was until now. It was in tatters and hardly fit. I'd worn this dress for almost as long as I could recall. "I wouldn't want to return to my father looking like this," I said, a tinkling, girlish laugh spilling out of my throat.

The old woman smiled, her eyes crinkling kindly.

"I have just the thing," she said, walking to the back of the shop. She returned moments later with a deep green gown trimmed with black lace. "Here you are," she said, offering the dress to me. "You may try it on of you like." She motioned to the back of the shop. I excused myself, eager to slip out of the horrid and filthy clothes I was wearing. I didn't quite feel like I should be in such an elegant dress. I felt increasingly filthier as I slipped it on. I couldn't honestly remember the last time I'd been allowed to bathe or brush through my tangled hair. I didn't have time to worry about such things now, so I brushed off the thought.

"I'm afraid I haven't brought any money," I said apologetically to the woman as I walked to the front of the shop. She grinned largely at me.  
>"Don't you worry about a thing, angel," she said, admiring the way the gown fit. "Think of it as an early birthday present."<p>

I bid the kindly lady goodbye and proceeded to travel down the crowded London streets, the demon close at my heels. I was ready to be presented to my father, but the demon wasn't just yet. There was still a great inhuman-ness about him that was sure to be detected by my father: his eyes. I was sure that was what it was. It was difficult for me to describe, as there were no words that the English language contained (as far as I knew) to adequately express the emotion contained within the demon's eyes. To say they were beautiful would be an incredible understatement.

I had an idea. I could mask his eyes, maybe make them appear more human somehow. I felt uncomfortable disclosing my thoughts the demon. The last thing I desired was for this demon to believe that I had a fixation with him, though I suppose I did. I didn't want him to view me as a child. I figured it would be best to address my concerns on my own.

"Doctor Faustus?" I said sweetly, turning to face the demon.

"Yes, my lady?" he responded, his golden eyes glinting and his face entirely passive.

"I have just one more matter of business to attend to," I said stopping in front of a shop I had no intention of visiting. "In order to hasten my return to my home, may I request that you send for a coach?"

"As you wish, my lady," he said, curtly. It was arranged that we would meet in front of the shop in five minutes' time. As the demon's form disappeared into the crowd, I turned the corner and walked into a musty shop I'd only been in on one occasion.

"Excuse me," I said as I entered. The balding man sitting at the front desk looked up as I entered. He smiled in quite a businesslike manner.

"How might I help you, miss?" the man asked.

"My father, Count Grimm, sent me to pick up new glasses," I lied. "Though he desires different frames. Might I see your selection?" I asked sweetly. The man bobbed his head up and down.

"Of course, of course," he said, "Anything for the Count." The man led me to a wall lined with frames of glasses. "These are the newest most popular styles. I trust you know what style your father is looking for?" he asked. I nodded, but did not elaborate. Most of the frames were circular and thick. If I presented a pair to the demon, it wouldn't fit his appearance. He needed something… elegant. Sophisticated. Yet, it needed to be odd. My eyes scanned the rows and rows of frames in front of my face. I moved down the wall, taking my time. I feared nothing would click.

Then, I saw them.

They were rectangular. The frame was thin silver, so thin it was almost nonexistent. They were odd, sticking out noticeably from the other frames, yet they seemed very fitting for a demon. I picked them up and handed them to the man. He studied them, a small smile spreading across his face.

"An interesting choice, miss," he said. "I find you'll be completely satisfied with these." He walked back to the front desk and pulled out a thin ebony box, placing the silver frames inside.

"Would you be so kind as to charge these to my father's account?" I asked. "I'm afraid he's caught in the middle of a meeting at the moment."

"Of course, miss," the man nodded. I thanked him and rushed quickly back to the shop where I'd promised to meet the demon. He was waiting for me, of course, a coach prepared. He opened the door and offered me his hand.

"Are you ready, my lady?" he asked. I took his hand and stepped into the coach. I settled into the seat nearest the window, as I planned to observe as much scenery as possible. I felt I had been deprived of nature's beauty for far too long. It was a wonder indeed that I did not develop insanity while I was staying at Northwood.

The demon sat opposite me, silent until the coach began to move. I glanced over at him; his lips were curved into a smile. I dared to glance into his eyes for a moment, though I was unable to hold my gaze. His eyes seemed to pierce my soul and know my every desire. It was an incredibly uncomfortable sensation, yet absolutely wonderful. He truly possessed the eyes of a demon.

"I have something for you," I said, looking down at my deep green skirts. I handed him the ebony box. His pale, slender fingers contrasted brilliantly against the dark wood, sliding pleasantly across my own fingers. When I had relinquished hold on the box, I dared to look up at his face again. I was met with a questioning gaze. The box was open. "Most doctors have them," I reasoned. "Besides, you needed something to make your eyes seem more… human," I mumbled the last part of the sentence.

"You're too kind, my lady," he smiled, sliding the thin frames onto his face. He delicately pushed them up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. His eyes certainly gained more humanity, though their beauty did not disappear.

"Think nothing of it," I said, shrugging. "If you do not like them, you do not have to wear them. Unless we are in the presence of my father, of course."

"Of course I appreciate any gift given to me by my lady," the demon said, humbly. I wasn't quite sure if I believed he was being sincere or not. I ignored it for the moment.

"What is to happen to you upon your return home?" the demon asked, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

"I'm sure I will stay in the guest house with you until my room is prepared," I said. The thought of living with a demon made me blush, for reasons I was unsure of at the moment. The thought was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. "Then I shall focus on avenging my mother's death."

"By killing your governess?" the demon asked, raising an eyebrow. I looked at him, thinking over my answer for a moment. Until this moment, that had been my plan. Though, now, I wasn't sure that death was going to be enough to punish the witch.

"No," I said slowly. "She needs to suffer. She needs to feel a semblance of the pain that I've felt. Death is too easy of an escape for a murderer like her." I sighed and looked out the window. I was secretly pleased with my response; it was as though I could _feel_ the waves of satisfaction rolling off the demon.

"You are an intriguing creature, my lady," he whispered softly. I turned back to him and smiled. This time, I held his gaze, drinking in his mortal form.

He was beautiful, my demon. Now that I had time to observe his appearance, the realization hit me like a brick. His clothing was well fitted and not a button was out of place. He held his chin high, as he was sure of himself. His black hair was perhaps the only unruly thing about him; it stuck out at random angles that were quite endearing. It was tied back into a pony tail that fell about halfway down his back.

And his eyes. His eyes were what captivated me the most. I found it queer that they were able to change from such a menacing scarlet to such a subdued gold color. Without his glasses, his eyes were mesmerizing. It seemed as though the demon had the ability to swallow your soul with a glance. The glasses I had given him masked some of the mystery in those golden depths. Those simple frames hid so much of the depth that his eyes contained, yet seemed to reveal even more. The glasses allowed me to feel at ease around him, made me feel like I was in the company of a fellow mortal. Or, at least, they made it easier to forget he was a demon. I was grateful for that; this demon was the only person I felt I could call my friend. Yet, friend didn't seem to be quite an appropriate word. The relationship we had was not what I would call a friendship. I was simply being a masochist for feeling any sort of bond to the creature at all, though I could not restrain myself.

"Though they are certainly limited, I know our time together will be quite… entertaining," the demon smiled. He looked at me over the top of his glasses. Those wonderful eyes sending chills down my spine.

The captivating eyes of a demon.


	11. Advent

Grimm Manor seemed entirely different from what I'd remembered, yet amazingly unchanged. I stared out the coach window in awe, though I was merely returning to my own home. The large columns in the front of the Manor were just as tall and proud as ever, yet they seemed newer and brighter somehow. The grounds were well kempt and green; the roses were blooming, adding vibrant color to the constant shades of green. I sighed, drinking in my surroundings.

I had fantasized about returning home on multiple occasions. I had imagined I would spring out of the coach, run up the gravel road to my front door, and leap into my father's waiting arms. Now that I was here, I wasn't sure what to expect. I hadn't announced my arrival. My father would be glad to see me, of course, but _I_ was the one who had changed. I had grown so quickly; at times, I felt I was an adult trapped in a fifteen-year-old girl's body.

"Why do you hesitate, my lady?" asked the demon, his golden eyes brimming with curiosity. "Are you afraid of meeting your father?" His words were not taunting. They were spoken with genuine concern, as though the demon had intentions to help ease my fraying nerves.

"No," I breathed quickly. "No, I would never fear my father. It's just… odd to be home again." Wordlessly, and with a smile, the demon opened the coach door. He slipped gracefully out, offering his hand to me. I took it, and stepped lightly out of the coach. The gravel crunched beneath my feet. I was really here. I was home.

Arm in arm with the demon, I strode up to the front door and knocked several times. I clutched the demon's arm tightly as the Manor door was opened by an ordinary looking maid with long brown hair and large grey eyes.

"Good afternoon," the demon crooned at the maid, flashing an irresistible smile. "We've come to see Count Grimm. Is he in?"

"Yes, of course," she said, opening the Manor door widely. The demon and I walked inside. "If you will wait here a moment," she said, bowing slightly and rushing off. The demon and I waited in silence. I stared at the large staircase in the middle of my home. That staircase held entirely too many memories for a girl of fifteen years. That staircase had brought me endless amounts of joy as a small girl, yet as I grew, it came to be a symbol of sorrow.

The Count Grimm, my beloved father, looked as though he hadn't aged a day. His dark ebony hair was perhaps a little longer than it had been the last time I'd seen him. There were no streaks of grey, no signs of balding. His face was smooth, though he had several prominent laugh lines that had been present on his face for as long as I could remember. His dark violet eyes widened as they fell upon my face, causing me to break into a smile. I released the demon's arm and ran to my father, just as I had imagined myself doing for all these years. That odd tinkling girlish laugh spilled out of my throat as he caught me in his arms.

"Dahlia?" My father cried as he returned my feet to the ground. He took my face in his hands. "My God you've grown! You're just as gorgeous as Victoria, your mother, God rest her soul! Oh, it has been too long." He embraced me, more tightly than I'd ever been embraced in my life, yet I felt that it wasn't tight enough. I had missed my father so!

"Father," I said, smiling, as I drew away, "With your permission, I'd like to return home to live." My father's smile widened and he let out a booming laugh.

"You needn't ask permission, angel," he said, ruffling my hair tenderly. "But what of Northwood? Have they released you, then? Please tell me they cared for my angel the best they knew how." His violet eyes looked at mine, inquisitively.

"Father, Northwood has been nothing but heaven," I lied. I did not want to trouble my father with the nightmares I'd been through. I was away from that awful hell, why should I bother my darling father with my tale of woe? I was soon to be avenged, and it would be best if he was not involved. "You'll be sad to know, moments after my release it caught fire," I said softly.

"Well, thank God you're safe," he said, hugging me close.

"Yes," I agreed, smiling. I held my hand out to the demon, motioning for him to come closer. "Father, I have returned with my own doctor, should my mental condition deteriorate once more. He's promised to take good care of me," I locked eyes with the demon, who smiled at my father.

"I'm pleased to meet you," my father said, extending his hand to the demon. I held my breath for a moment, hoping my father didn't sense anything inhuman from the demon. As they shook, I relaxed, releasing the breath I had held back. "What was your name?"

"Faustus," the demon replied smoothly. "Claude Faustus. And I assure you, sir, the pleasure is entirely mine." He released hands with my father and glanced back down at me. "As for your daughter's mental health, I can assure you she's quite cured. I've just been put in place to ensure there isn't a relapse."

"How incredible," came a soft, poisonously sweet voice. "I never thought you'd be able to rejoin us, Dahlia. I've heard awful stories about the care at Northwood." Townnesend walked up beside my father, flashing me a purely horrid smile. She hadn't changed either; she still held a frightening appearance, her demeanor entirely false, her yellow hair piled atop her head, her emerald eyes boring menacingly into my skull. She was no longer clothed in pure black, however. Today, she wore a gown of deep purple. Seeing her made me lose some of the courage I had gained. I had forgotten what a frightening opponent I was against. I shrank away from my father, at whose side she stood, and inched closer to the demon. I was careful, however, not to let my expression give away my inner feelings. As I stood by the demon, some of my fears melted away. His presence was soothing, and I knew that whilst he was around the _true_ demon could not harm me.

"I found Northwood to be quite agreeable," I replied, being just as falsely sweet with Townnesend as she'd been with me.

"Well, we're quite glad you're home," she smiled. "Your father and I have been absolutely worried about you."

"You've always enjoyed parties," my father said, changing the subject and smiling mischievously. "When you were a girl, they were your favorite. Why don't we throw a ball to celebrate your return, eh? It's been a while since I've had any reason to celebrate." My father winked at me. I stepped forward and, reaching up with my tiptoes, kissed his cheek.

"Dahlia, darling," Townnesend purred, "You're filthy! Northwood may have cured you, but they clearly placed no value on hygiene." She turned toward the staircase. "Ariadne! Come down, please." Shortly, the frail looking maid who had opened the door reappeared. She was given instructions to take the demon and I to the guest house and see that I was given the proper care.

* * *

><p>I was self conscious as I stepped out of my clothing. I felt increasingly out of place in my guest house as I realized how entirely filthy I was. My skin had once been a pale cream color, though it had been so deeply stained with dirt and grime I could hardly recall just exactly how pale I was.<p>

Ariadne added some sweet smelling salts to the water and there were bubbles brimming over the sides of the large tub. She took my hand and helped me step down into the bath, so I did not lose my balance. I could feel her eyes on my shoulder; the shoulder that held the mark of contract between the demon and I. I felt her fingers brush lightly against it. I quickly slid into the warm bath water, covering myself with the bubbles.

"Your hair," she whispered timidly, her slender fingers examining the short length of my fire colored hair. I grinned darkly.

"When I arrived at Northwood, I received surgery. In order to make the process easier, the doctors cut off all of my hair. That is why it is so short compared to everyone else's." I turned to face her, lifting my hands out of the water, and parted my bangs, revealing the long, thin scar that trailed along the left side of my forehead.

"You poor dove," she said, trailing her fingers lightly along my scar. "We humans can be quite monsters, can't we?" She stood. "I beg your leave, Miss Dahlia. If you need me, I will be nearby." Ariadne exited the bathroom. I was too proud to mention to her that I'd never bathed myself. I fumbled with the soap and the washcloth, scrubbing off layers of dirt until my skin turned red. I was completely daunted by the task of cleaning the tangled mass that I called my hair.

"Claude," I called, his being the first name that popped into my head. I preserved my modesty by scooting low in the bathwater, ensuring that my body was entirely hidden by the bubbles. I had no desire to show myself to a man again. Not after Northwood.

"Yes, my lady?" came the demon's purr. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, an amused expression on his face. I immediately felt embarrassed for calling him into the bathroom, and half contemplated sending him to fetch Ariadne. But, he was here, so I might as well request his services.

"Would you help me wash my hair?" My request was barely audible, but the demon heard me all the same. He stepped farther into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He knelt at the end of the bath, sliding his white gloves off. He took my head in his hands, gently instructing me to tilt my head back into the water.

Once my hair was wet, he took the brush at the side of the bath, and began to run its bristles through my unruly knots. However difficult it may have been to untangle my hair, it was done with the utmost care and delicacy. I attempted to engage him in conversation as he worked, hoping he would be obliged to answer my questions.

"Who was your previous master?" I asked. I had been all too curious. Inwardly, I was praying it was someone boring. I had this insane desire to be pleasing to this demon. My emotions were too complex for me to understand at the moment, but I knew that somehow, I cared deeply for my demon. I only understood my emotions to be ridiculous and childish, wishing that I could erase them.

"He was nobility," the demon purred softly as he worked. "He was incredibly predictable and entirely uninteresting. Even demons like a little entertainment once and a while."

"Then I hope to be incredibly unpredictable," I smiled. "I wouldn't want you to get bored." I could hear the smile in the demon's voice as he replied.

"You already are quite the unpredictable one, Tempest," he paused, setting down the brush. He began to massage sweet smelling shampoo into my hair. "You're the first master I've had who couldn't wash their own hair," he joked.

"I-" I began, immediately becoming defensive.

"-But you're also the first child who has ever required my services before," he continued, cutting me off. My heart fell a little when he referred to me as a child. I had been hoping that wasn't how he saw me.

"I'm not a child," I mumbled.

"In many ways, you are correct," the demon agreed. "You're more mature than many of the masters I've served before. You've experienced things that no child is meant to experience, and handled it incredibly well. I only meant that, by the standards of men, you are still a child. But do not worry, my lady. That status will change in time."

He tilted my head back once more, rinsing my hair. Once all of the soap had been rinsed from my hair and the bath water thoroughly dirtied, I thanked the demon as he stood to leave. He merely bowed in acknowledgement of my thanks, a smile glistening in his golden eyes.

I was at peace. As I drained the water from my bath, it was as though I was washing Northwood away. I was ready for a new start. I was ready to rid myself of the witch who called herself Townnesend. Though it was a daunting task, I knew it to be entirely possible; I had a demon on my side. My demon believed me to be wise beyond my years, and would do anything I commanded. I smiled at the thought of my power, eager to exercise it against the woman who had ruined everything.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Once again, thanks SO much for all of the wonderful reviews! I am really glad that I'm getting such positive feedback (especially since pretty much everyone hates Claude...)! I updated a little early (and by a little, I mean a LOT... C: I couldn't resist.) but I'm sure that it will be okay... Just FYI, I'm hoping to make things more intense. AND I'm trying to write a lot this month because November is national 'Write a Novel' month... so I'm just going to TRY and finish a lot of my stories (I can't promise I'll finish this one, though.). I have to at least meet the required amount of words for the month, which I believe is 50,000. I have a lot to go D:

Feel free to leave suggestions, feedback, etc. :) You guys are the best! *thumbs up*


	12. The Darkness

_Black lace. A chilling breeze. _

_The black lace seemed to dance upon the slight breeze, though the unsettling air made it impossible for my limbs to move. I wanted nothing more than to back away; the shrouded figure in black was the embodiment of all of my fears. I feared the darkness. I feared the darkness within others; the darkness within myself._

_The shroud moved closer to me, and I could hear a raspy breathing. It called out to me with the sickly sweet voice of a woman I knew all too well. I felt its breath on my neck, my skin prickling all over. I felt panic rise in my chest. I wanted to scream, but I was still paralyzed. The creature seemed to recognize this and let out low giggle. It reached out to me, its hands covered with blood. The warm, sticky substance smeared across my cheeks as the shroud ran its fingers along my face. Still I could do nothing._

"_Are you afraid, Dahlia?" It asked. I willed my lips to move, but they were frozen, just like every other part of me. The shrouded figure laughed once more. Those bloodstained hands reached up to where its face would be and began to remove some of the black lace. The lace, stained with that awful crimson, floated away on the breeze to reveal a face._

"_You needn't fear me, Dahlia," my mother spoke to me. Some of the fears in my heart calmed themselves. She was smiling, her crimson curls danced in the breeze, and her soft brown eyes searched my face. "I'm here to comfort you, darling. Not to frighten you."_

_It was as though an invisible cord unraveled itself from around my body. Upon gaining the freedom to move my limbs, I ran into my mother's arms. Tears fell down my face as she ran her fingers through my hair. I no longer cared that they were dripping in blood; it must have been her own. She looked exactly the same as she had the night she was killed._

"_Mother," I whispered, trying not to make my sobs too apparent. "I miss you, so."_

"_I know, dove," she whispered sweetly. "I miss you too. And your father. It isn't fair I had to leave," she said, her voice trailing off softly. She kissed the top of my head._

"_I've found away to avenge you," I said, looking up into her face. Her features were clouded by shadow, giving my mother's soft face a frightening appearance. I continued on anyway. "I've traded my soul so yours can rest and Townnesend's will suffer endless torment."_

_My mother threw her head back and laughed darkly. I felt panic bubble back up. I had, perhaps, let my guard down too early. This creature was not my mother. It couldn't be._

_When the creature faced me again, I was greeted by Townnesend's face instead of my mother's. Her eyes were glinting maliciously, inciting a fear within me I had never experienced before. I drew away from the woman, but she quickly caught me by the wrist. She tied my hands together with the black lace that she loved so much, the blood covering her skin painted my own._

"_A demon cannot protect you from me," she said, whispering in my ear. "I have already succeeded in keeping you at bay for eight years. Now it is clear to me that you are nothing but a nuisance." I felt a stinging coolness at my neck. In the glimmering moonlight, I saw the shimmer of a knife. I struggled against my bonds, but only managed to cut myself on the knife pressed to my throat. Townnesend laughed at my futile attempts at escape._

"_I have no qualms about getting rid of you for good, Dahlia darling," Townnesend lilted. She flashed me a poisonous smile. I released all of the volume my small lungs could muster, hoping that someone would hear me. Townnesend let me scream for a moment, relishing in my hopelessness. Then, the knife flashed. It buried itself in my stomach; a searing heat seemed to be pouring out of me._

"_Idiot," she laughed as I collapsed to the ground. "If you hadn't stood in the way when I wanted your father, things would have turned out differently."_

"_You-" I tried to respond, but it felt as though the inside of my body was collapsing. I could not breathe. I could not move. I could only lie still on the ground._

"_This is easier, though, I suppose," Townnesend sighed, bending over me. She slid the small knife out of my stomach. I stared in horror as I watched the deep scarlet pool around me. It was as though I was watching my own life leak out of my body. "You and your mother are out of my way for good."_

_Her knife came glinting toward my throat. The only thing I could do was shut my eyes tightly and pray it would be over soon._

* * *

><p>My eyes snapped open. My stomach was on fire, as though the events in my dream had actually occurred and I was somehow, miraculously, alive. I glanced around. I was in one of the rooms in the guest house. The window was open and clear moonlight was flooding the room. The white curtains were fluttering in the soft breeze. I was crumpled on the floor, my bed yards away, warm arms enveloping me.<p>

"You're safe, my lady," the demon purred. I felt that way, certainly, with the knowledge that he was here. "Perhaps it is fortunate that your room was not prepared thins evening. You'd have woken the whole household with your screams."

"I was screaming?" I asked, though I received the answer when I realized how scratchy my throat felt. It was odd; in my dream I hadn't managed to move or make hardly any sound. I held onto the demon's arms for a moment longer before standing and walking to the window. The cool breeze played across my skin and relaxed my tense muscles. "I apologize for waking you, doctor," I said, glancing over at the demon. He was still kneeling on the floor where I had left him, his eyes following my every move with concern.

"Would you like to discuss what was bothering you?" he asked. I scoffed and turned my attentions out the window. I was, frankly, embarrassed. The only thing I suffered from were night terrors. I hadn't developed them until shortly after my mother was murdered. They were infrequent and irregular at first, though once I arrived at Northwood, they happened almost nightly. Every dream was about Townnesend. She was the only consistent factor in my dreams. When Elizabeth arrived at Northwood, she was able to comfort me after my dream, and eventually they disappeared altogether.

"It was only a bad dream," I said. I was fifteen years old. I was too old to be having these sorts of dreams. Seeing Townnesend again must have triggered the dream and I knew I needed to stop these dreams somehow, but I wasn't about to let the demon believe that I was weak.

"It seemed to be much more than that, my lady," the demon said, rising to his feet. He joined me at the window. "As your doctor," he said with a smile, "I think it is wise to discuss such things. I'm only here to help you."

"It was about Townnesend," I said, tears springing to my eyes. My mouth was spilling a confession before I could stop myself. I explained how I used to dream Townnesend would kill me. I explained that it was a thing of the past, really, but had returned. I didn't mention, however, that this dream had been increasingly more vivid then the dreams I'd had when I was a child. I sobbed and shook with fear, and the demon held me in his arms all the while. I had calmed down after several minutes, apologizing profusely. The demon scooped me up in his arms and set me gently down on my mattress.

"There is no need to apologize for your past, my lady," the demon whispered as he pulled my covers up to my chin. "Your past is what makes you who you are."

"I'm just a loon," I sighed. "A loon who everyone abandons."

"I will never leave your side, my lady," the demon said, bowing slightly. The moonlight shone across his pale skin. "You should do your best to sleep."

Obediently, I rolled over on my side and closed my eyes. I felt more secure about returning to sleep knowing that I had my demon by my side.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, the dreams persisted. I was awakened two more times that night. Each time, the demon was there. He did not look tired, only patient and concerned. It was miraculous that he was not cross with me; any sane being would have been.<p>

He lifted me in his strong arms, returning me to the mattress once more. I sat, still quivering, sleep seeming several thousand years away. The demon's presence wasn't enough to calm my nerves anymore.

"What did you do in Northwood to calm your dreams?" the demon asked, sitting on the side of my bed. "Surely there is something I can do to help." His golden eyes searched my face, and I could feel my cheeks heating up. The methods I used at Northwood could not be used here. It was hardly appropriate.

On nights like these, when my dreams were especially horrid, Elizabeth would lie next to me. It was soothing, having a friend nearby. Sometimes she would sing me to sleep. Sometimes she would talk to me until I fell asleep. Sometimes she would just hold my hand and assure me everything would be alright. That was at Northwood. Elizabeth was my friend. I was home now. I was with a demon. I could not ask him to lie with me. I doubted he would.

"I cannot ask you to do what was done at Northwood," I said, looking away. "It would not be proper." My cheeks were surely a deep crimson color. My head felt like it would explode with pressure. I was certain that, were the demon to lie by my side, my fears would be erased. Yet, I could not ask such a thing. It was not proper.

"I care little for propriety, my lady," the demon said softly. "I care only for your safety and comfort."

"I had a friend at Northwood," I said slowly. "She knew about my dreams. On the nights when they were the worst, she'd lay by my side until I fell asleep. Eventually, the dreams disappeared. I will not ask you to lie with me, but I will ask you to stay."

"I'll not leave your side, my lady," the demon repeated with a smile. He remained seated on the side of my mattress, taking my hand gently in his. The contact was comforting. With his touch my nerves were calmed once more. I crawled closer to him and rested my head on his lap. Surely this would be more appropriate than to lie with a demon. I feared that if I were too far away from my demon, my dreams would return.

The demon stiffened at our contact at first, but gradually began to relax. I felt my eyelids begin to droop. I had one burning question for the demon, however, that I was only reminded of when my fatigue returned.

"Claude," I began, his human name still sounding odd on my tongue, "Do demons ever sleep?" I had been curious, as he did not appear at all worn out even at this late hour.

"We don't have to," he replied simply. "The darkest times are the times we're the most awake."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Oh my goodness. I feel like I haven't updated in forever! I guess it really hasn't been _too_ long, though. I've had this chapter sitting in my head for a while, to be perfectly honest. (This is the result of my dream journal project for psychology. We've been studying about dreams and such, so I guess all that studying is beginning to affect my imagination!) This fic is becoming one of my longest, and I must say, I'm pretty okay with that ;) I'm hoping to pick up the pace from here on out, as I've finally figured out what's going to happen to all my characters (No, I won't give you hints)!

Once again, thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers for their support! It really means a lot to me to get feedback! Thanks too, to those who have added me to their favorites or their alerts C:


	13. Masquerade

"What is this?" I asked as the demon gently laid a long box on the end of my bed. Without waiting for his response, I threw off the lid and lift back the paper covering the contents.

The silky fabric felt odd beneath my fingers. I studied it, unsure as to whether I liked it or not. I do hate to seem spoiled. The lace details were quite exquisite; I must accredit the dress that much, at least.

"It's black," I said, crinkling my nose. I did so against my better judgment, though the demon paid no mind to my distaste for the color.

"Your masked ball _is_ tonight, my lady," said the demon with a smile. "As you had not picked a costume, Miss Ariadne and I coordinated one."

As if on cue, the frail looking maid, Ariadne, slipped into my room. Her eyes were cast down to the floor and her head was slightly bowed. Her brow was furrowed and it looked as though she were holding back tears.

"I've been sent to help you ready for the masked ball, my lady," she said, addressing me in a quivering voice. I felt awfully for the poor dear, though I wasn't sure what was ailing her.

The demon excused himself, and I was left alone with Ariadne. I slid out of my dressing gown and, with the assistance of Ariadne, dressed in the black gown.

"Are you feeling quite alright, Ariadne?" I asked the maid. I was greeted by a pause of silence as she pulled the strings of my corset tight.

"Oh, yes," she responded after a beat. "I simply am too clumsy to be a maid, at times. I'm afraid I destroyed one of Lady Townnesend's best china sets."

I knew that Ariadne must have gotten a serious scolding for her clumsiness, though I wasn't sure why she was feeling too guilty. Had I broken one of Townnesend's china sets, I would break another, just out of spite. I did my best to stifle a laugh, though it wasn't hard. It had been years since I'd worn a corset; I'd forgotten how hard it was to breathe.

"I wouldn't trouble yourself over it too much," I assured her. "She's soon to replace it, I'm sure. She mad you pay for it, of course?"

"It's only right," Ariadne responded, though it seemed halfhearted.

"I'll see that you're reimbursed," I told her, winking. "Just keep it our secret, alright?" Ariadne's worried expression changed instantly. Her soft features were lit up with a smile and she quickly finished buttoning the dress. She chatted happily in response to my questions about life at the Manor as my short hair was done in ringlets, and my pale cheeks plastered with rouge.

Readying myself for this ball was nearly an all day ordeal. I took breaks to eat, taking longer than I should. I found all the frivolous primping to be tedious and dull. When Ariadne was finished with my costume, she led me to a full length mirror. I hardly recognized the girl staring back; she had sharp, proud violet eyes, a face framed by short, fiery curls, pale skin accentuated with blush and dark lace. I almost stopped hating the black dress for a moment; the ensemble worked nicely.

"I hardly recognize myself," I smiled as Ariadne carefully attached a black half-mask to my face. She stepped back to admire her work, smiling slightly.

"I think you look lovely," she said, deeming her work satisfactory. "You need to hurry along to the Manor," she said pushing me out the door. "I wonder if that blasted doctor of yours is ready yet." She walked to his room and gently knocked on the door.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised the demon would attend the ball. In fact, it would be odd if he didn't. In a sense, he would be my chaperone, as my doctor needed to follow me most everywhere. Yet, imagining a demon participating in human frivolities was almost laughable. I had no doubt the evening would bore him.

As the demon's door opened, I held my breath. He was clothed in black, like me. He wore a tailcoat and sported a black cane with a silver top. His mask, however, stood out the most. It was a brilliant white and covered his whole face. The nose and mouth curved out into a beak. Our costumes finally made sense. It was rather ironic.

He was the doctor, and I was the Plague.

The demon removed his mask, smiling cordially. He held out his arm to me, which I accepted. We walked down the stairs of the guest house, and proceeded down the gravel path to Grimm Manor.

"I know you hate it," the demon spoke after a moment, "But black suits you well, my lady." I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks, and I was glad that the generous amounts of rouge would hide the fact that I was blushing heavily.

"This whole idea is ridiculous, really," I scoffed, trying to change the subject.

"Why would you say that?" the demon asked.

"These sorts of things are done to attract suitors," I said sighing. "It is quite a pointless thing for someone like me. I have no interest in marriage, which I suppose is just as well. No man of noble blood would want a loon as a wife. It would incite harsh gossip," I said, laughing a little.

"I think you should give yourself more credit, my lady," the demon said, smiling mischievously. "Any man of noble blood would be a fool to pass you by."

I had no time to respond, as we entered the Manor. The Manor was decorated lavishly; chandeliers brightened the house, rose petals were strewn across the marble floor, musicians were set up against a far wall. I had indeed missed these sorts of gatherings, as much as I hated to admit it.

My father quickly spotted us; though I supposed it wasn't hard. There were few people present, as it was still early. Our black costumes contrasted nicely with the bright colors of everything else.

"You look wonderful, angel," my father said, scooping me up into his arms. We shared a short embrace before he set me down once more. "Your costumes are quite clever," he said, his grin widening.

"I take no credit," I said, smiling back. "All of the credit is due to Doctor Faustus." I laced my arm through his, smiling up at him. Humbly, the demon bowed.

"Most of the credit is due to Miss Ariadne," he corrected.

"Well, I shall pass my compliments on to her as well," my father laughed. "Anyhow, don't let this old man keep you. Go mingle, angel. You've got lots of guests." My father gently kissed my head and strode off.

I looked out into the sea of guests which, suddenly, seemed more numerous than they had a brief moment ago. No doubt they would all probe me with questions about Northwood. It was only natural to be curious about such a place. How I wished I could tell them what it was really like there. The pain and tortures that I had suffered over the past eight years, watching them murder my only friend, and being stripped of everything I held dear. Of course such stories would be shunned in this proprietous company.

I couldn't tell these people what had really happened at Northwood; I couldn't risk letting Townnesend overhear how miserable I had been. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. I swallowed and put on a smile. It was a masquerade after all, and there was no limit to the number of masks I was allowed to wear.


	14. Barriers

**A/N:** Just to clear things up before you read; this chapter is in Claude's POV. :)

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><p>"<em>Her condition was never severe to begin with," I assured an interested couple. I must admit, my role as doctor was growing on me. I had never been given much freedom when under a contract. This was, frankly, refreshing. "She has indeed made a full recovery."<em>

"_Well, it's a miracle," sighed the woman. She almost looked genuinely happy._

"_Indeed," I agreed. I glanced around the room, searching for my young mistress. I could not find her in the sea of faces, but I did notice one of the bay windows by the balcony was slightly cracked open. I could try my chances out there. "If you'll excuse me," I said, bowing slightly to the man and woman, "I'm afraid I must rejoin my young mistress." _

_I weaved my way through the mass of bodies, arriving quickly at the window. Hardly anyone noticed as I slipped out onto the balcony. I suddenly saw the appeal; the moon shone brilliantly and the air was cool and crisp. It was such a wonderful contrast from the stuffy heat inside. Indeed, Dahlia Grimm was out on the balcony. She leaned lazily against the banister, glancing casually over her shoulder as I approached._

"_I only needed a breath of fresh air," she explained before I could ask. I joined her, leaning my back to the banister. "I'd forgotten how stuffy these balls could be," she said, laughing a little. It was only now, when I was up close, that I noticed the slight shine of tears on her cheeks. Some emotion stirred in me, I suppose it was concern, although I wasn't too familiar with the sensation._

"_I think you're handling the situation quite well," I said, running a gloved hand across her cheek. She stiffened at my touch at first, though eventually warmed to the sensation. "None of the other guests see these tears." I smiled softly. She looked at me, her proud violet eyes filled with thousands of emotions._

"_But you do," she said softly. She looked down at her hands, unable to face me. My mistress was not one to show much emotion, especially not around me. I found it odd, yet at the same time I understood. Why bother baring your soul to a being who merely exists to devour it? Yet, that was the beauty of a contract. Through servitude, I got to know a soul, to really see what that soul was like, before it became a permanent part of me. The contents of Miss Grimm's soul were so mysterious and intriguing; I suppose it bothered me that I couldn't see them, that she was reluctant to share herself with me. She had some sort of barrier up, a barrier I couldn't break down no matter how hard I tried. I had already noted that she was quite headstrong and independent; she hated to appear weak to anyone, most of all me. _

"_I thought that was why I was here," I said, softly._

"_What do you mean?" she asked, looking back up at me again._

"_You can only hide behind a mask for so long, my lady," I said softly. This was a lesson I had indeed learned well. "Yet you wear yours constantly. The mask may change around different people, but it's still a mask. I'm here so you can take that mask off. There is no need to hide your true self from me."_

_Dahlia's expression softened. She threw her arms around my waist, and it was my turn to stiffen. I hadn't imagined that she would ever feel comfortable enough to touch me of her own accord. We only touched in public, and only in a way that was appropriate for a doctor and his patient._

_Her arms were gentle and her skin warm. Her scent was sweet, yet it seemed dampened by sorrow. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders as though it would erase some of her pain. She rested her head against my stomach, silent for several moments._

"_Sometimes, I think I forget who my true self is," she whispered. "Sometimes, when I remember, I don't think there's anyone who would like what I am. Even you." She lifted her head, and her glistening violet eyes gazed into mine. I felt an odd need to comfort her._

"_My lady-" I began._

"_-You only stay because you're here for my soul," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks once more. "I'm like a caged animal at the zoo, interesting until I've been studied for five minutes. When they're bored, they'll all leave me."_

"_My lady," I repeated softly. I knelt down to her level, taking her face in my hands. With my thumbs I wiped away the fresh layer of tears that had been spilt down her cheeks. "I will never leave you, even after the contract is complete and your soul is mine." I kissed her forehead, a burning sensation stinging my lips at our contact. "And what about your father? He wouldn't leave you. I've lived through plenty of human centuries. I think I know what love looks like."_

"_You think me childish," she laughed sadly, guessing my thoughts. "I suppose you're right. I'm childish because I worry all the time, childish because I want attention, childish because I never want to be alone." She bit her lip and stared down at her knees. "If nothing else, I want your attention and companionship for the rest of my days. I cannot bear to lose another companion." Though her words were barely above a whisper, I had never heard anything so clearly in my life. It was as though I could feel the barriers around her soul come crashing down._

_Initially, I was unsure of how to respond to the girl. As a demon, I was used to the awe of humans. Yet this girl seemed to revere me more than anything. She showed me incredible amounts of respect and acknowledged that I was her superior. It was something I had never experienced. Perhaps I was getting a taste of what humans felt around me. Most of my masters were not used to someone serving them wholeheartedly, devoting their existence to their every whim, or displaying great amounts of power. Dahlia was rendering me just as awestruck; I was not used to kindness or respect, I was used to being ordered around. _

"_My lady," I said, "The things you desire from me, you already have in your possession. I am your loyal slave; you have my attention every waking moment. As for leaving you, I can promise you I shall not. Even when your days end, I shall still be at your side."_

"_Thank you," she whispered, her cheeks dusted with a natural blush. She leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss upon my cheek. It burned pleasantly. She took the opportunity to hurriedly brush away any remaining wetness on her cheeks. Though I had successfully crashed through all of the barriers she had put up, she sighed and slipped on her mask again. Her face was adorned with a radiant smile, and her eyes were lit with laughter._

"_Well then, Doctor Faustus," she said, offering her hand to me with a smile. "Would you like to teach me how to dance?"_

_As I accepted the girl's hand, I became aware of one thing: I was just as much in awe of Dahlia Grimm as she was in awe of me._

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><p><strong>AN:** Okay, explaination time. Previous to writing this, I was re-watching Kuro II (because I do that when I'm bored). The last part of the 1st episode kind of caught my attention. For those of you who don't remember (because don't lie, we all kind of try to block season two from our memories... 'cause the ending SUCKED.), at the end of the first episode, Alois is begging Claude to stay with him because he doesn't want to be alone. Then Claude tells him he won't leave him and he only wants to desire\devour his master... C: Anyway, this was one of the first times I realized Claude shows some _actual_ emotion. So, I figured I'd throw a bit of that in here too, though I didn't do it as well. Claude may seem a little OOC for a while, but all will be explained, I promise. I'm kind of trying to explain why he's so detached in Kuro II. But I won't say any more, because I don't want to give anything away. :)

Also, apologies that this got out so late. I was up to my neck in projects, papers, and assignments. My teachers all believe that it is socially acceptable to pile on homework before a holiday. Obviously they don't get out much. ;)

A great big GRACIAS to Kendall Queen of Awesomeness, who is indeed, awesome! I couldn't thank you through PM, so I'll do it here. :) Also, huge thanks to all of those who have added this story to their favorites or alerts. You guys all rock. Seriously. :)


	15. The Melancholy of Mr Caine

I was perhaps the most clumsy and awful dancer to have ever lived, of this I was sure. My demon was an excellent and exceedingly patient teacher. After a few dances I decided to give up, however, in order to save face.

I excused myself to the refreshment table, hoping to escape the hounding questions that were sure to follow me. Luckily, all eyes were focused on my father and Townnesend as they began to dance gracefully across the floor. The sight of my father with that woman sickened me. I had forgotten for a brief moment that she was now my stepmother. My eyes, too, followed the pair. My poor father looked genuinely happy with that woman in his arms. I hadn't seen him smile so truly for an incredibly long time. I would never wish for my father to be unhappy; I merely found myself wishing there was some other way he could achieve happiness.

I furtively glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching, and snatched a tall glass of wine from the table beside me. I was sure my father wouldn't approve, but I felt it was the only way to soothe my abrupt anger. After all, I had seen the drink numb my father's emotions when he was drowning in his own grief. I merely believed it to be a quick fix to my situation.

I had never tasted wine before; it held quite an odd flavor. It wasn't unpleasant, though it was quite bitter. I quickly drank the glass, and immediately regretted it. I set the glass forcefully on the table, stifling a cough.

"Wine is a bit strong for you, is it not, Miss Grimm?" a voice startled me. It was hushed, so as not to be heard over the soft lilt of music. I glanced over, greeted by a familiar pair of sad blue eyes. It was the young reporter I had met only weeks earlier. My mouth opened and closed, making me appear like a fish out of water, as I could not think of a witty reply. "I won't tell a soul," he winked. "But humor me; may I ask what displeases you so?"

"What leads you to believe that I am displeased?" I asked, slipping on my false smile. The reporter laughed, his youthfulness even more apparent.

"What other reason would a young lady of noble blood have to drink in such a manner?" he asked. He had me there. I fell silent, finding it would be wisest to keep my mouth shut. My silence reaffirmed his suspicions and he laughed lightly. Our conversation lulled for a moment.

"I must apologize for my mention of your mother at our last meeting," he said, softly. I glanced over at him; his eyes had softened incredibly. In an instant, he seemed to have aged a decade. His face looked tired and worn. "I wasn't thinking, I'm afraid. If I brought up any painful memories-"

"-There is no need to apologize," I said quickly, cutting him off. "I was grateful, in fact. Hardly anyone remembers my mother at all."

"I was quite young, but I do remember Countess Grimm," he said, with a sigh. He took a glass of wine from the table and drank the liquid quickly. "She was quite the woman, wasn't she?" he asked, a distant look in his eye.

"I like to think so," I agreed.

"You're a lot like her, you know," he said. He reached for another glass of wine. I had heard that these beverages were quite popular amongst adults, though I never understood the fervor for the drink. Especially after I had tried some myself; perhaps if I was desperate for a drink… or trying to erase some bitter memory with that taste. "I was quite sad to hear when she was killed."

Caine's words stopped my breath. _Killed_. Hardly anyone used that term when describing my mother's death. It had been called many things; tragic, unfortunate accident, terrible fortune, so on and so forth. But not once had any adult believed my story. They believed I was mad. Claiming my mother was killed had landed me in a mental institution. Being the only one to know the truth and having the inability to prove it was the only thing that drove me to madness. How could Caine know that she had been killed? I had no memories of the man; what could he know of my family and its deep, dark secrets?

"Killed?" I asked him, hoping that he would elaborate on the subject. He merely nodded and reached for another glass. "What is it with your sudden urge for wine?" I asked, gently snatching the glass away. He looked at me with his sad blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, letting the glass remain in my hands. "I've just not been doing so well lately. I'm afraid the crowd, this house… it's all getting to me."

"Perhaps you'd like some air," I said, taking his arm and leading him to the balcony I'd taken refuge on only moments before. As we walked, my eyes found Claude's. I signaled for him not to follow, and he nodded. We slipped through the slightly cracked window. Caine tilted his head up to the sky and took a deep breath; it was as though he had never breathed such sweet oxygen before. His face relaxed, and some of his sorrow seemed to be erased.

"This is wonderful," he sighed. He walked to the railing and sat upon it, a boyish demeanor taking over instantly. He patted the railing beside him, motioning for me to join him. I laughed a little and hopped up beside him. "I'm sorry, Miss Grimm, what was it you were asking me inside?" he asked, resuming our previous conversation.

"You said my mother was killed," I said slowly. "It was an accident, that's all." I tried to make my statement sound matter-of-fact, though I didn't believe it myself. Mr. Caine laughed darkly and put his hand gently on mine. His blue eyes searched mine unrelentingly.

"Come now," he said softly. "I know you don't believe such lies." I didn't, it was true; and I'm sure I hadn't been very convincing a moment before. "I don't believe it either," he confessed.

"You don't?" I asked. "For what reasons?"

"Years ago, I was hired by the police to write official reports after investigations and crimes and the like. This was before I had enough experience to write for the newspaper, you see. I've visited several crime scenes in my time, and I can tell you, your mother's death was not an accident. I tried to convince the others, but as I was not a detective or an officer they had little reason to believe me." He sighed and looked up at the sky once more. I was speechless, honestly. There was hardly a soul who'd ever believed my claims to the truth. To finally speak with another human being who knew it too was indeed refreshing.

"You don't think me mad, do you?" I asked him softly. He laughed once more, shaking his head.

"Quite the contrary," He smiled. "I find you to be highly intuitive and mature. Especially for your age." I looked down at my lap, biting my lip. I had never spoken to another about this, and doing so shortly after my release from Northwood didn't seem to be the most logical decision. But if Bartholomew Caine really believed my mother was killed, I could not silence myself any longer.

"I saw her die," I whispered quietly. "I saw everything that happened that night." Beside me, I could feel Caine stiffen.

"You saw it?" he asked. "But you were such a small girl. How…" his voice trailed off.

"She died at the hands of the woman in my father's arms," I muttered darkly, nodding towards the Manor. "Townnesend is responsible for every curse that has come upon me in this life." I felt Caine's hand tighten around mine. His eyes held a look of empathy and compassion. It wasn't pity, and for this I was grateful. Pity would do me no good.

"Townnesend?" he asked, though his face showed no disbelief. There was some sort of odd rage in his eyes. It mirrored my own feelings toward the woman. "What is there to be done about it?" he asked. I could tell he genuinely wanted to help, but I could not let him. I already had all the help I needed. I had shared enough with Mr. Caine.

"Nothing, I suppose," I said, letting out that odd laugh that didn't belong to me. "I have to be the bigger person, right? Besides, she cannot touch me now; she'd lose favor with my father."

"She can't touch _you?_" Caine was suddenly on his feet. I had never seen a man so enraged before; yet it seemed he was quite under control. "Miss Grimm, if she killed your mother and got away with it, what's to stop her from hurting you?" I was at a loss for words once again. I couldn't explain to Mr. Caine that my confidence came from the fact that I had a demon to protect me. "We cannot permit her to slander your family name or destroy my happiness!"

"What has she done to your happiness?" I asked. Apparently, Mr. Caine had not intended to reveal that information to me. His face softened a little, and he looked as though he greatly regretted what he had just said. "Mr. Caine?" I asked. "I wish to know."

"If you must," he relented, gripping the rail of the balcony until his knuckles were white. "You should at least first know that there is nothing you can do, so do not worry yourself over it. Promise me you will not try and correct the situation on your own," he said, his blue eyes incredibly stern. I nodded in consent, though I was lying. If there was some way I could help Mr. Caine, I surely would. I felt like I owed him _something_. He sighed.

"If you've ever been in love, Miss Grimm, you must know it's awful," he said, giving a slight laugh. "One person plagues your thoughts every waking moment. You have a desire to impress them, to please them, to make sure they'll never leave. Everything you are, you give to them," he paused for a moment. I pretended to understand the emotion he was describing, though in all honesty, I could never think of one person I cared for in such a manner. I loved my father, yes, but I already had assurance he loved me. I didn't feel as though I needed to prove myself to him. The only other being on the face of this Earth that I felt I should impress was Claude. But that was different as he was a demon, wasn't it? I couldn't possibly be feeling any sort of attachment to that cold-hearted demon, could I?

I hurriedly brushed the thought to the back of my mind; now wasn't the time to be worrying over such childish things. "And what of your lover, Mr. Caine?" I asked gently.

"Townnesend has blackmailed her," he said, bluntly. His figure fell limp, as though suddenly all of the hope, vigor, and youthfulness had been drained from his body. "The woman I love is quite talented. Townnesend was in need of her services, but didn't want to pay the price for them. In order to enlist her help, Townnesend threatened to kill me. If she doesn't do whatever she is commanded, I will die."

"Do you fear death?" I asked. If fear of death was the only obstacle in his path…

Townnesend was capable of killing, yes, but Mr. Caine was an adult male in his prime. Surely he could easily overpower her if he needed to.

"I fear separation from the one I love," he admitted. "I know it sounds juvenile. Our circumstances are complex enough as it is. Townnesend's actions have hardly helped." He paused. "We're doing the best we can," he sighed. "With time, I hope to devise a plan to get rid of Townnesend. I'm hoping to prove her hand in your mother's murder."

"If I can help you at all," I said, quietly, "You need only to ask. I would be more than happy to lend my resources to your cause."

Mr. Caine was about to open his mouth to reply when the large windows to the Manor were thrown open. Townnesend stood facing us, a false smile plastered on her face.

"Dahlia, darling, come inside, you'll catch cold," she held her arms out to me. I had no choice but to join her. "Good evening, Mr. Caine," she greeted the reporter smugly as she whisked me inside. "Honestly, Dahlia," she whispered harshly in my ear. "I find it highly inappropriate for you to be out there alone with that young man. People have started gossiping, you know."

"Let them," I whispered. Townnesend pretended not to hear me.

"Where is that doctor of yours?" she asked, glancing around the crowded room.

"You require my services, my lady?" came the gentle purr of my demon. Townnesend turned on her heel to face him. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but then she slipped on her fake smile once more.

"I believe Dahlia has had more than enough excitement for one night," she said, cheerily. "If you would be so kind as to get her to bed, I would be greatly obliged."

"Of course, my lady," Claude said, bowing deeply. "Come with me, Miss Grimm," he said, offering me his arm. Together we walked out of the Manor, bidding guests a good evening as we passed. The gravel crunched loudly under our feet as we walked back to the guest house.

"I'm afraid we have some things to discuss upon our return to the guest house, my lady," Claude said, a smile visible in his tone.

"What is it you wish to discuss?" I asked, incredibly curious.

"Well, I suppose I will need to explain to you why the maid is bound and gagged for one," he said laughing lightly.

"Claude-" I said abruptly. I stopped walking. The demon turned to face me, a small smile upon his lips. My agitation was apparently amusing.

"-I'm afraid you're not the only one in the house who has contracted with a demon, my lady."


	16. Blackmail

"Who is the other demon, Claude?" I asked in a hushed voice as the demon and I climbed the stairs of the guest house. "You must tell me." I stopped halfway up the staircase.

"The maid," Claude said simply.

"Ariadne?" I asked, though she was the only maid at the Manor. "She hardly behaves as a demon should."

"And you hardly behave as a young lady of propriety," Claude said, smiling. "We are all allowed to our disguises, my lady."

"Well, what gave her away?" I asked, grabbing his sleeve and stopping him as he began to resume travel up the staircase. "You _must_ be sure that she is a demon."

"I am quite sure, my lady," He said, his golden eyes sparkling. "Her pentagram is invisible unless touched by blood. With her strength, often mistaken for clumsiness, she shattered a water pitcher and cut her hand. She hardly had time to cover it up."

"She still seems too timid," I sighed. I hardly wanted to believe that Ariadne had contracted with a member of my family. It would be most devastating if her master were Townnesend. It would indeed put us on a more even playing field.

"She claims to be in love with a human, if you believe such nonsense. I think that the human-"

"You don't believe a demon could love a human?" I asked, interrupting him. The idea seemed, in its own way, quite romantic. Of course, it was illogical at the same time.

"It is not _im_possible," Claude said, smiling. "The purpose of our existence as demons is to lead humans astray, take advantage of them. What better way to complete that task, than to make a human love you? Humans, as I understand, are quite loyal creatures. Loyalty to a demon would easily steer them astray. Perhaps the love _could_ be returned, but the true question is whether that love is pure. Does the demon love the human for their soul and the thrill of the chase, or do they truly love the human? I believe our dear Ariadne has fallen in love with the desire for this human's soul, and in order to get it, has adopted a tame and timid manner. The human has, in essence, tamed the demon inside her for the time being."

"Have you never loved a human?" I asked, for reasons unbeknownst to me. Perhaps it would be satisfying to hear Claude admit that he had loved a human. Perhaps even loved a human's soul. It would indeed give him a greater sense of humanity. But then, perhaps, it would also be unpleasant- for I would not know what human was capable of earning Claude's love. Because, deep inside me, I was starting to sense a yearning for the demon's love; for no reason other than knowing he loved me in return. Yes, I was recognizing emotions which could, perhaps, be dangerous. I was in love with my demon.

Claude smiled and resumed his journey up the long staircase. I followed after him, awaiting his answer. We reached the top of the stairs before it came.

"As of yet I am not sure, my lady," he said, quietly. Gently, he opened the door to the servant's quarters. Inside, Ariadne sat upon the floor. She was not struggling against her bonds, which I recognized as the thin silver cord Claude always kept with him. Her eyes seemed to have lost some of their previous tentativeness. In fact, they deed seem to hold a hue of scarlet; as though they were undecided as to whether they would remain gray or bleed into the scarlet of a demon's eyes. She calmly looked up as Claude and I entered the room, saying nothing. I noted that her arms were bleeding slightly, but she hardly looked as though she had suffered much.

"Are you under a contract?" I asked her, cutting straight to the point. I needed to know as soon as possible, whether or not Townnesend had a demon ally. Ariadne simply shook her head. Her eyes bored into mine, a strange kind of fury behind them. "What purpose do you have at Grimm Manor?" I asked softly. I kneeled down to Ariadne's eye level. She gave me a twisted smile.

"Are you aware of the ways in which you can murder a demon?" she asked. Her voice was no longer soft and mild, the way it had been previously. Now it was rich and silky, quite confident. The suave lilt of her voice could have any human jumping off a cliff at her mere request. It was odd, yet quite alluring. "Or were you not aware demons were capable of dying?" she continued. "Humans are infinitely more fragile. There are so many ways you can crush the life out of them." She paused. "I have come to Grimm Manor to protect. Not to do any harm, especially to you, my lady."

As Ariadne spoke, I was reminded of my earlier conversation with Mr. Caine. He had mentioned that his lover was blackmailed into working for Townnesend. He would die if she did not. Could Mr. Caine be the man that Ariadne was protecting? He was a human after all.

"Claude," I said, not taking my eyes off the female demon, "You remember Mr. Caine?" I asked. Claude nodded. "Would you be so kind as to retrieve him from the Manor? And do so without that _woman_ seeing either of you." Claude bowed and quickly exited the room. "You have not contracted with Townnesend, then?" I asked Ariadne as soon as we were alone. She threw her head back and laughed.

"I would never contract with that witch," she said. "We demons do have a choice, you know. Though, Townnesend loves herself too much to willingly give away her soul. Not that it would taste good at any rate."

I sighed in relief. If Ariadne was not contracted with Townnesend, then perhaps I could still work the situation to my favor. That is, if Caine and Ariadne were indeed the ill-fated lovers Townnesend had manipulated.

"You help her for a human, then," I said, slowly. She nodded.

"It's foolish, pitiful even, but this human is precious to me. I cannot let him be destroyed. There are very few humans in the world that know of the existence of demons. There are fewer still who respect their power. Claude has told me you are one of those few," she said with a smile. "My human is as well. Though, he didn't know what I truly was at first."

"Why do you feel obligated to protect this human?" I asked. "What is it that draws you to him?"

"He saved my life," she said, bluntly. "Well, he was under the impression that he was saving my life," she corrected with a laugh. "At the time he didn't know I was a demon. Though, when he found out, it didn't seem to matter much. But when Townnesend found out-" her voice trailed off. "We've been working to outsmart her ever since."

"I know." I nodded. As if on cue, Claude and Mr. Caine burst through the door. Caine's eyes immediately lighted upon Ariadne's face. He teetered in the doorway, unsure as to whether or not he should rush to her side. "This is the human, then?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Ariadne said nothing, merely stared at Caine. Her eyes held a hunger, though it wasn't a demonic hunger. It was as though she had not seen the man in years and was merely feasting on the sight of him. Caine walked forward and knelt at her side, gently taking her face in his hands.

"Ariadne, you're safe," he whispered, gently brushing her hair out of her face. She smiled up at him, gently kissing him.

"Of course," she said. "Of course I'm safe."

"I believe it is quite alright to untie Ariadne, Claude," I said, addressing my demon. He bowed and cut the cords around Ariadne's arms. Promptly, she threw them around Mr. Caine's neck, and they embraced. It was an odd sight; knowing that Mr. Caine must be incredibly young compared to the fiery demon. Yet, it was quite apparent that he had tamed her. Claude was correct in that assumption. It was endearing, however, to see that Mr. Caine was important enough to Ariadne, that she would do anything for him. Without the contract. Without him ordering her to, she would do anything it took to keep them together.

"I would like to propose an alliance," I said, shortly. If Ariadne and Caine were already working to bring down Townnesend, it would make sense that our efforts be combined, and therefore be more effective. "Each of us has our own reasons for getting rid of Townnesend," I said, "But I would like to propose that we begin to work together."

"Miss Grimm," Mr. Caine spoke, hesitantly. His arms were still wrapped around Ariadne. "I don't want to drag you into this."

"I've already been dragged into this!" I said, sharply. "I'm not a child. I can help you, and if you want to succeed, I think its best."

"Townnesend is aware Ariadne is a demon, but she is not aware that I am," Claude said, speaking up. "My young mistress is indeed correct. If you have any intentions of defeating that woman, it would be best if we were to join together."

"She's already lost her mother to that monster," Ariadne said to Mr. Caine. "She has more of a reason to fight than we do. We still have each other, and if she's successful in completing her goal, things will stay that way."

"Very well," Mr. Caine agreed. "What do you propose we do?"

"Mr. Caine, you informed me that you were gathering information on my mother's case," I said. Caine nodded. "I wish for you to continue your efforts. With luck, we'll find something. I only want one thing to be clear, I have plans for Townnesend, none of which involve her death. I want her to suffer. In completing this goal, I intend to dirty my hands."

"I am prepared for the consequences of my actions," Mr. Caine said. "I have long since realized this wasn't a battle that was going to be won out of chivalry."

"Excellent," I said. "I shall continue letting Townnesend believe that she's won, by playing along with her little games. Ariadne, I expect you to do the same, carry out every order she gives until the time you can bring forth evidence with which to convict her, Mr. Caine. You may have Claude's assistance if you require it. If we're fortunate, we'll all be rid of the witch before the month is out." I turned on my heel and walked out of the servants' quarters, stifling a laugh.

Finally, I had a stroke of luck. I knew without a doubt that I could win against Townnesend. Though she believed she had Ariadne on her side, she was mistaken. My mother would be avenged. I would be avenged. I could experience peace, if only for a little while. The only thing with which I needed to be concerned with was my father's happiness. For his happiness, I was willing to do anything, to sacrifice anything. I would see that he was still happy, even without Townnesend hanging off him.

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><p><strong>AN:** So MUCHAS GRACIAS to all reviewers :) You guys make me smile. So this chapter was (apparently) super predictable, but oh well. Things are going to pick up from here on out [hopefully!] I've definitely been working on this fic for like a month. So yeah. Anyways. More reviews, plz? :D (And to those of you who are in school, hope that your Christmas breaks are enjoyable... whenever they come!)


	17. A Game of Chess

Of the many rooms inside Grimm Manor, my father's library was my favorite. When he was much younger he studied and traveled abroad; studying the books he had collected over the years was like traveling with him. It made me feel closely connected, as though I could see what he was like as a boy. I cannot exactly imagine how my father ever had the time to read all of the books in his possession; I hadn't even read a fourth of them in my few short years. In fact, there were so many of them, I would not permit myself to reread any of them. With one exception.

My favorite book in my father's vast collection was a book he had received from my mother. I curled up in the window seat, the bright morning sun shining on the book's familiar and amiable pages.

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><p>"<em>You've picked out one of my favorites, I see," my father chuckled as I curled up beside him on our window seat. <em>

"_You'll read it to me, won't you?" I pleaded. He laughed and tenderly kissed my head._

"_Of course," he smiled. "Though you must promise you'll go promptly to bed afterwards," he said, "Your mother will never let you go to London with me if she knows I've been keeping you up at night." He winked._

"_Oh, I will," I smiled. "Mother will never know I was awake."_

"_You know," my father smiled, "This book was the first gift I ever received from your mother."_

"_Was it?" I asked, brightening even more. I was young and foolish, and a good romance story always seemed to entertain me. _

"_Did you know your mother and I didn't want to get married at first?" he said, looking at me seriously. I gasped, causing a soft round of laughter from my father. I couldn't help myself; the knowledge that your parents weren't always in love was quite scandalous, even to a girl of six._

"_In fact," my father continued, "I'm positive your mother hated me. We had an arranged marriage, you see."_

"_Oh, mother hardly hates you father. She couldn't," I protested. My father only laughed again._

"_I know she doesn't hate me, angel," he assured me. "But when we courted, it was difficult for us to get along. I suppose I was expecting a quiet, subservient wife. And your mother, she was fiery, opinionated, and passionate. You've inherited that from her," he said, lightly tapping the tip of my nose with his index finger. "Anyway, the first Christmas of our courtship, she gave me this book. I'm sure she gave me this particular book in order to prove something," he laughed a little. "I read it, grudgingly at first, but the farther I delved into its pages, the more this book made me realize that I loved your mother. I didn't need a proprietous, subservient wife. I needed adventure, advice, opinions, someone to stop me from getting a big head. And your mother has done just that. She's a lot like the heroine in this book, actually. And every day, you're becoming more and more like her, too."_

"_Then we must read it, father," I squealed in delight. My father was always able to ignite my interest. Furthermore, I had never read a book about a female hero. I snuggled in closer to my father as he flipped the book open._

"_As you wish, my little heroine," he smiled and kissed my head before beginning the tale._

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><p>I was so absorbed in my past, as well as the unfolding of the familiar tale, that I did not notice my company until I felt the cook morning wind brush across my cheeks. I glanced up and was greeted by the sight of my demon. He was standing at an open window, letting the morning air brush past him, a look of content elation spread across his face.<p>

"Good morning, Doctor Faustus," I greeted from my perch. He turned to face me, still looking quite peaceful, and bowed slightly.

"Good morning, my lady," he greeted in return. His eyes scanned the room briefly, a smile flitting to his lips. "Your father has quite the extensive library, I see."

"I'm glad of it, too," I said, leaping down from the window seat and joining the demon by the open window. "His collection is something I've been able to enjoy. It's provided the much needed escape from reality at times."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Claude's eyes flick towards the book in my hands. His lips twitched upward and into a small smile.

"An interesting reading selection, my lady," he said, "Though I'm not surprised at all to find it in your possession."

"You've read it?" I asked, a bit surprised. I had never imagined that demons would find joy in simple human pleasures such as reading. But then, I was learning new things about them every passing day.

"It's one of the few works of human creation I've read in my existence, yes," he nodded.

"And what did you make of it?" I asked, curious to hear his opinion. He gave a short laugh.

"In all honesty, my lady, I found the plot to be quite lacking," he said. My face surely fell as I discovered his distaste, for he quickly continued. "The characters were too complex for the plot. They were quite… _human_. If I recall correctly, the heroine was stubborn and outspoken, much like my young mistress," he said, brushing his gloved hand across my cheek. A look of curiosity was brimming in his eyes and, oddly, I found it to be quite endearing. Without realizing it, I leaned into his touch, letting my skin pleasantly burn with our contact.

"Your memory does indeed serve well," Townnesend replied coldly from the doorway. Claude and I drew away from each other quickly, though my skin still prickled from his touch. "Dahlia, darling, your father has plenty of other reading selections to choose from," she said walking forward. "And you've read this one so many times. What will it take to get you to read something of worth?" she asked, reaching forward to snatch the book out of my hands. I moved away before she could grab it.

"It is of great worth to me, madam, and I'll be reading it as many times as I please, thank you," I snapped without thinking. Townnesend looked as though she'd been struck across the face, but recovered after a moment and smiled sweetly.

"Well, never mind that," she said, taking my hand. "Come join me for a game of chess. Excuse us, Doctor," she said, pulling me out the door.

I wondered what sorts of awful torture I was now entitled to endure as Townnesend pulled me wordlessly along. Yet, as we arrived in the parlor, there was indeed a chessboard ready and waiting. Townnesend released me and sat at one end.

"Don't stand there gawking, darling, it's quite unattractive," she said. I realized I'd been standing stone still for about half a minute, entirely confused. I quickly sat at the other end of the table.

"Forgive me, madam," I apologized quickly. "I seem to have lost track of myself."

"Let us forgo the pretenses, Dahlia," Townnesend said sharply, as she moved her pawn forward. "But through my correspondence with Burgess, I hear you prefer Tempest, now." She smiled darkly.

"You've heard correctly," I replied evenly, taking my turn. I was puzzled as to whether she was trying to make me uneasy. Burgess was dead, surely. Perhaps she was referring to a time in the past. I could only pray that was the case.

"You're an incredibly foolish girl, sometimes," she said, advancing another pawn.

"Oh?" I laughed. "Whatever makes you think so?" I asked sweetly.

"You would have been better off if you'd listened to me, but you never were very good at that. I wouldn't have had to send you away of you hadn't upset your father about your mother's death."

"And I was supposed to just let you get away with murder and hand my father over to you?" I spat. "Now you're the fool."

"Your mother didn't love your father," Townnesend retorted in a dangerously soft voice.

"Now you're lying, my dear," I laughed, giddily. I captured her bishop. Townnesend was clearly fishing for something with which to anger me. She was trying to paint herself as a saint; to make her motives seem as though they were more than greed and jealousy. But all she had were flimsy lies.

"I love your father. I've loved him from the moment I first saw him," she breathed. The dark passion in her voice was almost sickening because it meant that she spoke the truth. "I wasn't as high class as your mother's family. But your father, he was always kind. He had confidence in me when I had none for myself. But his feelings and my feelings didn't matter. He was betrothed to that Victoria _Phantomhive._ Selfish girl, she was. She didn't love your father like I did! Not at first," Townnesend's rage was fogged by a single tear that slid down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly.

"My mother was not selfish," I said, my fingers curling into fists.

"You didn't know her like I did," Townnesend laughed. "The Phantomhives have always seemed to think themselves a cut above the rest. No suitor was ever good enough for Victoria. Finally, her parents forced her to marry your father. It was all beneficial to both the Phantomhives and the Grimms, after all."

"It seems like you're missing sides to the story, madam," I said as calmly as I could manage. "My father and mother love each other. I'll not sit here and listen to you slander my mother's name." I said sternly. "Check," I added, strategically placing my knight.

"You're planning to get rid of me, I know it," she said. "I advise against it. I have tricks up my sleeve that you know hardly anything about," she said, killing my knight. "You should just let your father and I have our happy ending."

"Your happy ending only came about through your greed. Ironically enough, you blame it on my mother's selfishness, though I see none of it," I said, rashly moving my pieces about, hardly caring as their numbers quickly diminished. "If you truly loved my father, you'd have left him alone. He was happy with my mother. You seem to be the only one that has been blinded to that truth."

"You insist on playing this game, then?" she asked calmly, raising an eyebrow.

"To the death," I growled. She merely sighed and smiled.

"Checkmate," she said, flicking my king over. I had let my emotions cloud mu judgment and I lost the game. "Really darling, you should practice your chess more," she said, standing. "Perhaps that doctor of yours would help you. Perhaps he could solve this little riddle as well: Leviathan. You just ask him what that means," she smirked and left me.

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><p><em><em>**A/N:** I apologize for the long break between updates. My laptop died AGAIN and Bleach and Skyward Sword have kinda taken over my life. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews and support! :D Hope that this chapter was equally intriquing as its predecessors. Oh, and the Grimms are related to the Phantomhives? WHAT? :) Reviews, plz?


	18. A Demon's Touch

**A/N:**Just a quick note, the section in italics is in Claude's POV. Also thanks for the feedback and reviews. You guys seriously rock :)

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><p>I sat in the parlor for what felt like hours. My defeat at Townnesend's hand struck me so hard I felt incredibly numb. I was honestly frightened, honestly beginning to wonder what foolishness I'd gotten myself into. Townnesend wasn't as shallow as I had imagined which, perhaps, was why she was holding the winning hand at the moment. I gritted my teeth. I had traded my very soul in hopes of a victory. I wasn't about to lose now. I couldn't.<p>

"My lady," Ariadne's timid voice broke into my thoughts. "It's been lunchtime for nearly a half hour. What have you been doing?" she asked, walking toward me. I slid on a smile and stood.

"Just thinking," I told her. She didn't prod me for further explanation, simply let the vague answer I'd given suffice.

"Your things have been moved from the guest house to the Manor," she added, taking my arm. She looked incredibly fragile, almost like a doll. It would have been impossible for me to guess that she was a demon. Her eyes had none of the fire and vast ominous depth that Claude's did. No, she only looked like her true self when Caine was around. Only then did her inner fire show through. "It has taken some time," she continued after my silence. "For this, I must apologize. We were in a rush to clean out the room you've been occupying in the guest house, as Lady Townnesend is expecting a guest later this evening."

"Oh?" I asked, snapping back to reality. "Who?" Ariadne shook her head and pursed her lips.

"She wouldn't say. She only said he was an old friend."

"Well, be on your guard, then," I advised. "Have you heard anything from Mr. Caine?" I asked, halting before I entered the dining room.

"No, my lady," she said, shaking her head. "When he contacts me, you'll be the first to know," she assured me before releasing my arm. I nodded and entered the dining room, my mind full of questions.

It was pleasant to find Townnesend absent from the table. My father and my demon rose politely as I made my way to my seat.

"You look ill, angel," my father observed as he sat down once more. "Are you feeling quite alright?"

"Quite well, father," I assured him, though I wasn't quite sure myself. The arrival of Townnesend's mystery guest had me on edge. I was sure that this friend played a role in her plot to obtain my father and remove me from the picture. It was certainly an item of business I needed to discuss with Claude. "I fell asleep while reading in the parlor," I lied.

"Your reading selection bored you?" my father asked, caught between shock and amusement.

"Oh, of course not," I shook my head. "I merely had difficulty sleeping last night," I lied again.

"Is there anything I could do to help, my lady?" Claude asked, his golden eyes filled with concern. I shook my head, but hoped my eyes conveyed the message of needing to converse with him.

The peace of our lunch was quickly interrupted when Townnesend entered with quite a flamboyant, boisterous air.

"Excuse me, Doctor," she addressed Claude, her voice dripping with poison, "I know you're hardly a servant, but I'm afraid Ariadne and the others are occupied. Do you think you could fetch some things from London for me? I have a guest arriving this evening and I'm hardly prepared."

"Of course," Claude obliged, standing. His eyes flickered to mine for only a moment, as though he were asking my leave. I did not want him to leave, but I could not interfere with Townnesend's request without looking suspicious. "I can leave immediately," he responded, as though he got the answer he needed from my expression.

"Wonderful," she smiled. "I'll just fetch you the list then, shall I?" she said, exiting quickly. Claude excused himself and followed after her.

"Father," I said, as I slowly finished my meal, "Who is our guest?" My father only sighed, shook his head, and gave a small laugh.

"I can't say," he admitted. "But whoever it is, he must be important. I've never seen her this excited. Or frantic," he added as an afterthought. "Come with me to fetch a letter from the study, my dear." My father stood, offering his arm. I quickly skipped to his side, and together we trotted up the staircase and into my father's study.

My father was quite an orderly man, and his study reflected that. Everything was in its proper place, papers were stacked neatly, and there was hardly any clutter anywhere. This made finding my father's letter easy. He picked it up from off his desk and handed it to me.

"You'll run this downstairs, won't you?" he asked. "I don't know how soon that doctor of yours is going to be prodded out the door and I'm afraid I can't make it in time."

"You're too old to race down the banister, then?" I asked, grinning a little. My father and I often made sport of racing down the banister, though Townnesend never really approved. She hardly scolded me for it though, as my father and mother never really discouraged the behavior. In all honesty, I missed the little games that I used to play with my father.

"No, you're merely far too slow," he grinned, darting out the door before I had time to protest. I quickly chased after him, sliding down the left banister as quickly as I could. My father's feet barely had time to touch the floor when I collided into him, causing us to crumple on the floor into a heap of laughter.

"Don't forget the letter," my father reminded me as we heard the carriage pull up to the front door. I stood quickly, my father close behind. I threw open the manor door just in time to see Claude about to enter the carriage, listening to a few last minute instructions given by Townnesend.

"Doctor Faustus," I called out loudly in an attempt to get Claude's attention. I bounded down the steps in quite an unladylike fashion. He turned at the sound of my voice, his eyes widening ever so slightly as I threw myself into his arms. I stood on tiptoe, placing my lips as close to his ear as possible.

"While you're in London, see if you can get into contact with Caine," I instructed, hoping that the movement of my lips went undetected by Townnesend and my father. I stepped back. "My father would like for you to deliver this letter while you're out," I said audibly. He gently took the envelope from my hands, his eyes never leaving my face.

"I shall, my lady," he nodded before stepping into the carriage.

"Dahlia, darling," Townnesend turned to me as Claude- and the black carriage- disappeared from view. "Is it really necessary and proper to show that level of affection to your doctor?" she chided slightly.

"Perhaps not," I said, feigning embarrassment. "But I feel he deserves it. He has taken good care of me," I was desperately fishing for an excuse for my actions. As long as I was a step ahead of Townnesend and she didn't know what I was planning, everything would go well.

"Indeed he has, angel," my father agreed, stepping forward and kissing my cheek. "But perhaps you should show a little _less_ enthusiasm with your affections. Unless of course, you plan on marrying him."

"Of course not, sir," I said, averting my eyes and becoming very interested in cobblestone. On this occasion my cheeks began reddening of their own accord.

"You don't treat all of your doctors in this manner, do you?" Townnesend inquired. Of course she knew that I did not. Though, I had indeed painted Northwood as a pleasant place, one where I was well cared for and loved. Such was the lie I would have to uphold.

"Oh, but I would, God rest their souls," I said, raising my head and widening my eyes in earnest. My father laughed.

"You are a queer child, indeed," he said, lightheartedly as he returned to the Manor. Townnesend said nothing, only kept her lips pushed tightly against each other to hide her horrid smile.

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><p>It seemed as though it were several lifetimes before the sound of a carriage was heard again. I was incredibly restless and could hardly concentrate on my reading. I only longed for Claude to return home with news from Caine. I also needed his assistance in solving Townnesend's latest riddle.<p>

When the evening's peace was at last interrupted by the noise of carriage wheels, I rushed down the stairs and to the door as quickly as I could. I gave no thought to the fact that Claude wasn't the only one I was expecting. Only when I saw a beaming Townnesend at the door did I remember her guest. When the figure standing at the door was not my guardian demon, I felt my excitement quickly turn to fear. My breath caught audibly in my throat. All too well did I remember the face that was staring back at me. There were subtle changes to it, of course, such as a small scar along the jaw. But the cold, foreign features were still the same. Faintly, I heard my father coming down the staircase. Even louder was the pounding of my heart housed within my tiny chest.

"Well, aren't you glad to see him?" Townnesend asked me in reference to her guest. "Just this afternoon you were practically wishing he was alive," Townnesend reminded me.

I knew I had to move. I had to play my part convincingly, but it was taking far too long to call my limbs to action. When at last they responded, I slipped on a cracked smile and broke into a run towards the man. I fell into his overeager arms. Fear sliced through my veins, more so than ever before. I felt completely unprotected, and my whole being longed for Claude.

"Thank God you're alive, Doctor Burgess," I said, hoping my tears could pass as tears of joy.

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><p><em>I arrived too late to remedy whatever damage had been done. My mistress was clearly in pieces, though I was the only one who seemed to be able to tell. I thought better of telling her Caine's message, knowing it could wait until later.<em>

_As I saw the damage that had been inflicted upon my mistress, I couldn't help but hate that human, Burgess. His survival was a complete mystery to me. I had plenty of experience with killing humans; never had one survived if I had intended otherwise. Granted, he hadn't escaped unscathed. There was a small scar along his jaw, no doubt one he had received from my spider's thread. I found myself hoping that underneath his fine clothes, his body was horridly disfigured with burns. It was an odd sensation, really. I found hatred to be a very primitive human emotion and was pleased that it was not something I had to cope with. Yet, here I was, practically wearing this human emotion on my sleeve. Failure was also something that I was not accustomed to, especially when I was ordered around within the bounds of a contract. I was clearly puzzled as to why I was behaving in such a human-like manner._

_I took the matter to bed with me, lying on my back and mulling over the situation. What was the true source of my agitation? Was it my failure? Or was it the fact that my mistress was in pain? Unfortunately, it seemed as though the latter was indeed the cause of my anger. I usually prided myself on being indifferent to the dispositions and welfares of my masters. The fact that Dahlia's pain and fear upset me was slightly disturbing. Not because I abhorred the child. It was quite the opposite. And therein lay my problem. I was becoming attached. And that was incredibly dangerous for one in my position. Fortunately, I wasn't to the point where I would foolishly declare my undying love for the child as Ariadne had done with that Caine boy. I would not allow myself to be tamed. Though, it hardly seemed as though Dahlia would try to do such a thing. She never wanted to change me. She seemed perfectly at ease with my demonic habits. Never once did she appear to be frightened. There was always respect and reverence in her dealings with me, however. I found it to be quite refreshing. Yet, Dahlia always seemed to be searching for the humanity in me, sure that it existed. It did not matter how many stone walls I put up, she would keep searching. And eventually, she would find it. But I couldn't let her find it. The consequences would be devastating. For me._

_My door opened quietly and Dahlia softly entered my room. Her red hair was in disarray and her nightgown flitted softly around her small frame. She walked toward the bed shakily, her breathing incredibly heavy. She drew back the covers and quickly threw herself onto the mattress. She was completely unaware of my presence until our bodies collided. She gasped softly, then looked up into my face._

_"You are here," she said, letting out a relieved sigh and wrapping her arms around me._

_"Of course, my lady," I said. "These are my quarters and it is indeed late," I hinted._

_"Yes, forgive me," she whispered timidly. "I know that this is hardly proper, but my childish fear has caused me to leave propriety behind." She buried her face into my chest. "The nightmares have returned," she confessed in an apologetic way. "I'm certain it is because Burgess is here," she sobbed softly. "I'm so frightened of him, Claude."_

_"You needn't be," I said, holding the child closer to me, as though our contact would cease her shaking. "You have me."_

_"Oh, I know I do," she said. "But when you're away, I'm nothing. I revert back to the bundle of broken pieces he turned me into. I cannot help it, I'm afraid. I'm not strong enough to face him alone."_

_"And whoever said you had to?" I asked. "My lady, I am with you until the very end. We are not going to lose."_

_"How can you be so sure?" she asked, scooting impossibly closer. I took her chin in my hand, drinking in her shimmering violet eyes._

_"I spoke to Caine today," I began. "He's found nothing in the reports on your mother's death. But he has found something on Townnesend. She has a history of alleged insanity in her family. That, perhaps, is how she has connections with these other doctors. Surely you can use this information to your advantage?" I brushed her tears away with my thumbs._

_"Does Leviathan mean anything to you?" she asked after a pause, not acknowledging the new information I'd given her. However, her question gave me cause to panic ever so slightly. "Townnesend mentioned it today," she said. "I was wondering if you knew what it meant."_

_"It means things are going to be a bit more difficult from here on out," I sighed. "Leviathan is a sword. The only weapon in existence that can kill a demon."_

_"Does that mean Townnesend has discovered what you are?" she asked, holding onto me tighter. I shrugged._

_"Perhaps. Though, I think you've had enough to worry about for one day. We shall discuss it further in the morning, yes?" I said. I wanted to bring the subject up with Ariadne before I gave Dahlia any solid answers to her questions. For the time being, I knew only as much as she did._

_"Yes," Dahlia agreed. I held her shaking frame, wishing that there was more that I could do to comfort her. A demon's touch was never meant to heal and, for a moment, I almost regretted that fact. After several silent moments, Dahlia's breathing slowed and she fell asleep. I kissed her head, a brilliant taste greeting my lips. Yet even more distinct was the softness and incredible warmth of her skin, as well as the pleasure that filled me at our contact. I sighed._

_I was too incredibly attatched._

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><p><strong>AN:**I'm SO sorry that updates are taking so long. I'm back to pen and paper method, so things can be a bit time consuming and tedious D: Anyway, this chapter was a bit longer than usual, so I hope that made up for the long wait. :) Also, quick question: I am thinking of doing a chapter in Townnesend's POV just so we can better understand her past because I realize that as I keep writing, more pieces of her past are popping up and then screaming at me to be written. SO... just wondering if you would enjoy a chapter like that, or maybe if I should do a separate little fic-let (because she has a pretty long\intense past)...? You can PM me or leave it in a review or something. I was just curious. :) Anyway, reviews are always appreciated (especially from you closet readers [Though I can't judge too much. I'm a closet reader myself...]. I need your feed-back! It is my sustenance!). Thanks so much to everyone who has favorited\added this story to alerts, too! I'm really pleased with the reception that this story is getting (especially since- and I know I keep saying this- I'm pretty much the only one on the whole dang planet who loves Claude :D). Anyways, you guys rock, hope this was worth the wait, and um... Merry belated Christmas\Happy belated New Years? Yup. M'kay. Peace out.


	19. How to Break a Heart I

**A/N:**In this chapter, I went out on a limb and put it in Townnesend's point of view. The majority of it is in flashbacks (which are italicized). Lemme know what you think :)

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><p>I was far too excited for sleep. I was so close to my goal I could practically taste victory on my tongue. I lay awake in my bed, Hector snoring gently beside me. I looked down at his peaceful face; he'd hardly aged a day since we were children. Certainly he'd matured and his features had lost most of their incredible boyishness. Yet he was so youthful, so breathtaking. When I doubted myself, one look at him told me that the prize was worth the pain. I had always felt that fate had linked us together. Yet she also managed to keep him out of my grasp for so long…<p>

* * *

><p><em>Victoria sprawled out on the couch across from me in an entirely unladylike manner, her face drained of much of its usual vivacity.<em>

"_How are your studies, Ceecee?" she asked, grinning slightly. I shrugged, looking up from the philosophy book in which I was pretending to be engrossed. Victoria leaned forward and tilted the book vertically so that she could read the spine. After reading the title, she cocked an eyebrow. "Fascinating reading," she noted, sarcastically. I tossed the book aside and sighed._

"_Oh, I cannot stand to read another page," I confessed. "I wish I could have gone out into the garden with you, instead of reading that dreadful book."_

"_You could have come," Victoria smiled, knowing full well why I hadn't joined her._

"_Mother would have been incredibly cross with me," I mumbled sheepishly. I had an innate fear of rule breaking, which was something that seemed to come easily to the Phantomhive children. Not that they ever broke serious rules, of course._

"_Then don't tell her I've put off my reading," Victoria requested, grinning all the more broadly._

"_She's sure to be a lot less cross with you," I grumbled. "You're only her pupil. I'm supposed to be studying to follow in her footsteps."_

"_I wonder what a governess' life is like," Victoria mused. I laughed a little._

"_In a few years, I'll let you know," I sighed. I hardly wanted to be a governess. It wasn't a horrible lot. I could indeed do far worse._

"_Perhaps you won't be a governess," Victoria comforted, knowing how I had a distinct distaste for the future I was doomed to fulfill. "I'm sure James would marry you, if you tried to please him hard enough." James was Victoria's elder brother whom both of us loved dearly. He was kind-hearted and cheerful, though, as of late he'd been incredibly engrossed in his studies. He was recently enrolled in college- a rare privilege- and many of his boyish habits that I'd adored were slowly fading away._

"_Imagine how scandalous that would be," I scoffed. "Have you heard?" I sat stiffly, imitating the manner and tone of many women I'd seen at the Phantomhive's social events. "The young Phantomhive earl has gone and gotten himself engaged to his butler's daughter," I threw in a haughty laugh for good measure._

"_The butler that married their governess?" Victoria asked, turning her nose up and playing along with my act. "They must have a very cozy atmosphere at this Manor, what with every one falling in love."_

"_What of their daughter, Victoria?" I asked, still speaking in overly round, proprietous tones. Victoria laughed before responding._

"_I'm afraid there's no hope for her," she said, shaking her head. "She dreams of being a writer, you know. Men are hardly on her list of priorities."_

"_Oh, Victoria," I chided, my voice coming out as my own. "You're so incredibly fortunate to not have to work so hard for every penny. Isn't marriage a small price to pay in return?"_

"_I'm not opposed to marriage, Ceecee," Victoria protested. "In fact, I'm sure I'd rather enjoy it if the right man came along. I just… I have my own dreams, that's all. Of course, my parents are displeased with said aspirations. Perhaps that's the reason for this ball tonight. I'm sure it's part of their ploy to find me a husband."_

_Indeed it was. Victoria Phantomhive's parents had been trying for ages-with no success- to find a suitable husband. She turned her nose up at all of them, determined to fulfill her own desires before she attempted to satisfy propriety. Though, surely if she met a man with as great of a sense of adventure as she, then she wouldn't mind settling down. Personally, I didn't understand why she was so determined to remain unmarried. Marriage was something I'd dreamed of for ages, though always reminded myself I'd be incredibly fortunate if I were granted my desire._

_Though I was only the daughter of two servants, the Phantomhives were incredibly obliging and allowed me to attend their social events. I was wearing a gown I'd borrowed from Victoria and scanning the sea of faces from afar. In fact, I was safely tucked away on the balcony, enjoying the breeze and distance from the crowd. I was a horrible dancer, as it was not entirely essential to my education. I watched Victoria as she socialized with other male guests, no doubt in an attempt to please her parents. Some she frightened off with her boisterous, boyish personality, others she intrigued._

_Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in my foot and I yelped. I turned and found a pair of voluminous violet eyes. They belonged to a boy no older than James. He had slightly tan skin, a broad smile, and dark chestnut colored hair tied back into a ponytail that fell a little below his neck._

"_Pardon me, madam," he said, with a mock bow that made me giggle. "I'm afraid you're the fourteenth girl who has fallen victim to Hector Grimm's clumsiness this evening." _

_I was speechless. This Hector Grimm was as breathtaking as a Greek god. Actually, I'm sure if I were ever in the presence of a god I would be able to retain more control of my senses. I quickly dipped into a curtsy, hoping that I hadn't been gawking at the boy for long._

"_It's quite alright, sir," I said, quietly._

"_Hector will do just fine," he corrected me. "May I ask what a lady such as yourself is doing hiding herself from such lively company?" he asked, with a large grin._

"_I have a bad ankle," I lied, rather lamely. If Hector saw through my lies, he didn't say so. "And what brings you to this lonely window balcony?"_

_Hector laughed and flashed a smile that made me glow. "I'm afraid I'm running from my prospective wives," he admitted. "Most of them are upset that I must soon announce my engagement. Not that I have any choice in the matter. My parents have arranged everything for me. I'm afraid they have got this idea of a perfect marriage in their heads. Really, it's a business deal more than anything. I can hardly stand the girl they've chosen, at any rate."_

"_What's she like?" I asked, a little dismayed. He shrugged._

"_Like any other girl, I suppose," he sighed. I suppose his terseness with women should have offended me, but I was determined to please him, to prove that__ I__ was different from any other girl. I was so taken by Hector Grimm that I was willing to overlook his faults- such as his slight lack of proper gentlemanly conduct in regards to women. Overlooking faults was what love was about after all, wasn't it?_

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><p>The morning came more quickly than I'd expected. I arose rather late, though the house was still incredibly silent. I snuck quietly into Hector's library, a place I only visited on rare occasions. I felt that his library was his personal space and that I shouldn't be intruding. All of the books he'd collected told stories of his past. Some he'd told me, and some he kept to himself. Though, I never really minded. We were all entitled to keep our secrets.<p>

As I glanced across the shelves and their contents, my eyes fell upon the book that Dahlia had left on the window seat. I knew that book only too well. I remember when Victoria had given it to Hector. The moment he picked up that book was the moment I lost everything. It was one of Victoria's favorite books, one she'd read over and over. I picked up the book and flipped through the pages, letting the soft slightly weathered paper brush gently against my fingers. Victoria had given it to Hector out of spite. The message she'd hoped to convey was her hatred, but ultimately all it conveyed was love. The words in this book made Hector Grimm fall hopelessly in love with that Phantomhive girl. I detested every sentence the book contained, for I did not know which one inspired the change within his heart. Even if I did know, I'm sure I'd hate the whole book all the same.

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><p>"<em>He's nothing but an arrogant prick," Victoria fumed, pacing in front of the fireplace which was lit with a roaring fire.<em>

"_Victoria," I gasped. Partially, I was shocked because of her language, and partially I was shocked because she wasn't in love with Hector Grimm. How could fate be so cruel? The only thing I wanted in my life was right at my fingertips, and it was being given to a foolish girl who could hardly appreciate it._

"_I know you're fond of him, Ceecee," she said, her pacing never ceasing. As her rage increased, so did the tempo of her steps. "But, honestly. Spend more than an hour with him. He wants nothing but a _boring_ life. All women are the same to him, anyway. As long as she's got a pretty face and can give him children, he could care less who he marries."_

_"Perhaps it's only a phase," I said, attempting to calm her. "It's almost Christmas. He's sure to lighten up. And if not, maybe your parents will change their minds." In all actuality, I was hoping that Hector would change his. We'd spent enormous amounts of time together, mostly because he and Victoria could hardly stand each other. Whenever he came calling the two could only be civilized for about a minute. Then their conversation would explode into loud, raised voices and stamping feet. Once James and I placed bets to see how long they could be agreeable towards each other. James won, of course, as he'd predicted the shorter amount of time. What I truly couldn't understand is why Hector made no attempt to remedy the situation. If he really didn't love Victoria, surely he could reason with his parents. I got along with Hector perfectly well. Would I truly make such a horrible wife?_

_"Yes, and we're only to spend _more_ time together during the holidays," Victoria, sighed, slumping onto the couch. "Though, I do have quite a fantastic present picked out for him." She grinned widely._

* * *

><p>I slowly opened the door to Hector's study. He looked up from his work as I entered. His face broke out into that smile that I so adored. My heart seemed to beat faster just at the sight of him.<p>

"Good morning, Cecile," he greeted me with a gentle kiss. "How did you sleep?"

"Well," I lied. "But I thought I heard Dahlia screaming," I added. I was acutely aware that Dahlia suffered from severe nightmares, ever since her return to the Manor. Apparently, her doctor had taken care of the matter, as she had been sleeping soundly the past few weeks. But, seeing as Burgess had returned to her life again, the nightmares had started up once more. If I was incredibly lucky, the nightmares would induce true mental trauma, making my job of ridding myself of her that much easier. However, I still had to pretend to be concerned.

"Have you seen her this morning?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "I cannot seem to find her _or_ her blasted doctor."

"She's out," I said simply. "She wanted to go and visit the cemetery, poor dear. She said she hadn't paid respects to one of her dear friends. How hard it must have been for her to lose someone that close," I said, shaking my head. "She and her doctor left early this morning." I neglected to mention that I saw them both exiting the same room this morning. The last thing I wanted to burden Hector with was my own fears of Dahlia's attachment to her doctor.

"I wish she would have told me," he sighed, slowly turning back to his work.

"I have to take a trip to London, Burgess has some business to attend to," I told him, turning to leave. "I can check on her while I'm out. Really, though, Dahlia is quite a responsible girl. You needn't worry about her too much." I blew him a kiss and exited the study.

When I exited the mansion, Burgess was already in a carriage, waiting for me to join him. I sat beside him in the carriage, and we set out on our way. At first there was silence, filled only by the slight jostle of the carriage and the rhythmic pattering of the horses' hooves.

"Curiosity has gotten the better of me," Burgess purred, breaking the silence. "Whatever are we going to London for?"

"We're not going to London," I said. "We're looking for Dahlia. You're here to make sure she doesn't come back home."

"How exciting," Burgess sighed, his lips turning up a bit at the corners. "Cecile, in all the years that I've known you, you've never failed to provide me with the best entertainment."

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><p><em>The day was gray. I had traveled with my father and my aunt into town to be of whatever assistance I could. Mostly though, I wanted to escape the Manor. Hector and Victoria had publicly announced their engagement and, to my dismay, they were both incredibly pleased. Some sort of magic had occurred over the holidays, and now I was merely a spectator to their love. I was heartbroken, which was incredibly childish. I had only known Hector a while, yet I was so sure that he was easily within my grasp. And Victoria had hated him so. How was it that at the first sign of affection, she was willing to return it? I suppose they had spent more time with each other over the holidays. In fact, their fighting ceased shortly after Hector was gifted with Victoria's book. <em>

_I felt incredibly cheated. Victoria was stealing _my_ hero away from me. He was the only one who had managed to make me feel like I could be more than what I was. That I had some sort of potential._

"_You're going to be just fine," my father soothed, bringing my mind back to reality. I glanced up at him, but realized that he wasn't talking to me. He was gently crooning at my aunt, whose behavior had drastically changed recently. We had feared she'd lost her mind, and that was the reason my father was handing her over to this strange man. My aunt didn't take too much coaxing, but my father stayed to talk with the doctor for several minutes._

"_You look a bit forlorn," a voice purred from behind me. I turned and was greeted by the face of a young, bespectacled doctor. He smiled at me, though his smile was odd and incredibly foreign. "Your aunt will be taken care of."_

"_I know," I whispered, not really having any desire to talk with this strange doctor. His smile widened a bit more._

"_That's not what's bothering you, is it?" he asked. I looked down at the ground, praying that he would go away. The last thing I wanted was to discuss the state of my heart with a complete stranger. "Is there anything I could help you with?" he asked. I laughed in spite of myself._

"_Not unless you're a skilled assassin," I said, shocked at the words coming out of my mouth. I'd never really voiced my feelings for the past few days. Apparently, I was more full of rage than anything else._

"_Would being a shinigami suffice?" he asked, flashing his teeth at me. I gasped slightly. Surely this man was mocking me. Shinigami were things of legends. They couldn't exist, could they? No, I was almost certain this man was poking fun at me._

"_Good day," I said sharply, turning away and beginning to edge closer to my father. The man gently took hold of my arm and pulled me closer to him._

"_I can help you, my sweet," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can tell there is something you're yearning for. And I can help you get it. I can remove any obstacles from your path."_

"_You're not really a doctor, are you?" I asked. "Does your doctor know you've escaped from the group of patients?" Surely this man suffered from some sort of mental illness. Yet, the young man laughed. Deeply. It was curious. It was cold. It did sound different from any sort of human laugh I'd heard. I brushed those thoughts aside and assured myself it was only my mind playing tricks on me._

"_Your skepticism is highly amusing," he said. "But I only show myself to humans who want something." He leaned forward and whispered into my ear. "I can help you win over Hector Grimm." His voice sent chills down my spine. Chills of excitement. Hope. Intrigue. Only a shinigami could know the true desire of my heart._

"_How do you propose to do that?" I asked. He laughed once more._

"_It's not what I propose to do, my love," he smiled. "Your wish is my command. I only ask that you provide me with entertainment."_

"_A shinigami looking for entertainment?" I asked, smiling along with him. I felt a sort of blackness growing within me. I had been sent an angel. I could easily win over Hector now, though the problem would be in keeping the shinigami entertained. However, if I had a shinigami on my side and the only price he asked for was entertainment, I could manage. "If you help me fulfill all of my desires, you'll have more excitement then you've had in your whole existence." He smiled widely. He reached into his pocket and dug out a small piece of parchment, which he handed to me._

"_That's a hefty promise," he said. "However, if you fail to keep your end of our bargain, I can promise you, you won't like what happens next. Keep in touch," he winked, turned away, and disappeared into the crowd. I almost regretted the rash decision I had just made. But my heart was fluttering with excitement once more. It was wonderful to feel alive again. If the initial consequences of this decision felt this right, there was no way I could have gone wrong. _

_I looked down and studied the information I'd been given. The handwriting was neat and clear. It was his contact information. _

_Burgess. The name of the angel I would never forget. _

_When I chose to write him, our game would begin._


	20. To Be Whole

The trip had taken a majority of the day; it had been a quiet ride through the country. Claude and I had said little to each other, and I was content merely to sit and stare out the window, mulling over my fate.

When at last the carriage pulled up to the quiet little graveyard, I walked up to the tombstone that was marked with Elizabeth's name. There wasn't really much that I could say. My mind was frantically trying to form words, but no words in my vocabulary could accurately convey the panging emotions that I was feeling. I suppose that the realization that Elizabeth Todd was actually gone was hitting me. Seeing her name spelled out coldly alongside her few years of life… well, it was almost more than I could bear.

"Elizabeth," I sighed, sinking to my knees. I greatly regretted putting off this visit for so long. Elizabeth was my dearest friend. I shuddered and ran my fingers across the indentions on her headstone. My heart was so confused; I felt like I wanted to scream, to laugh, and to cry all at the same time. For a moment, the despair I felt at Northwood overcame me. I laid on Elizabeth's grave, right next to where I imagined her body would be. We comforted each other this way so many times in those short years.

"Everything is going to be all right," I whispered, not sure if I was assuring myself or attempting to communicate with Elizabeth. Claude, who had been standing at a distance at first, noticed that I had collapsed to the ground. He approached silently and knelt by my head. I felt his slender fingers comb gently through my hair and, quite miraculously, soothe my fraying nerves.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he asked softly. I could only muster a sniffle in response. "She must have been a wonderful girl if she managed to keep you sane and alive while you were in Northwood," he mused. He was absolutely amazing. He did not know Elizabeth- nor would he ever- yet, his lips were uttering the very words I'd been searching for. "Thank you," he said, addressing the headstone, "for prolonging the life of my mistress. You must have been quite a selfless creature."

"She wanted to meet you, you know," I said, rolling over to face him. "Elizabeth told me about demons. She told me everything I know." Claude's eyes met mine, a small smile upon his lips. However, this content expression fell away to reveal a furrowed brow.

"My lady, I must apologize," he said, hesitantly. "I deeply regret that Burgess is still alive. If I had done as you'd instructed and killed him, I'm sure that I could have saved you from this increased suffering." I raised myself to a sitting position.

"It's my fault," I assured him. "I don't recall ever ordering you to kill him. Besides, I'm sure there's something about him that's… different. I can sense it."

"Even so," Claude sighed. "I've seen the pain his presence causes you. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"You can have another go, if you'd like," Burgess' voice purred. I could feel my eyes widening as they frantically searched for the monster. He was at the edge of the cemetery with Townnesend, both of whom were looking incredibly smug. They both stepped closer to Claude and me. I felt myself backing up until I fell into Claude's arms. He stood and pulled me to a standing position as well. As Burgess approached I could almost hear a snarl rise in Claude's throat.

"W-what are you doing here?" I asked clumsily. My voice sounded incredibly timid. I tried to steel myself; what reason did I have to be afraid? Burgess and Townnesend were only human- as far as I knew- and I was under the protection of my very own guardian angel.

"Dahlia, your father has been worried sick about you," Townnesend smiled. "I came to look for you, child. Honestly, you should have said goodbye."

Burgess moved forward with impossible speed and quickly snatched me out of Claude's arms. I struggled, but it was of no use. Burgess' grip was incredibly fierce. Claude stepped forward to intervene, but Townnesend stopped him by placing an odd looking green tinted sword at his neck.

"I know what you are, darling," she winked at him. "And I think you're familiar with Leviathan. Burgess here has told me everything I need to know about you. And you'll not move another inch. IF you choose to do so, Dahlia will be dead before you can blink and you'll follow soon after." Claude looked at me apologetically, but I nodded at him, telling him to remain where he was.

"Oh, Tempest," Burgess sighed. He bent down and crushed his lips against mine. All at once my mouth was filled with his horrid poisonous taste and my head was spinning with pain, dread, and awful memories. "It's been far too long. You've hardly spent any quality time with me since I've come to visit. You've been spending all your time with this _new_ doctor. You're not sleeping with him, too, are you? I'm sure I'd be quire offended." Burgess ran a hand down my cheek. I was shaking and biting my lip so hard my mouth began to fill with the warm taste of my own blood. I refused to cry. Not in front of Burgess again. "I see that you're visiting our good friend Miss Todd," he continued. "It's so nice to have the family back together again, isn't it? Though, I think there's room for your headstone right next to Miss Todd's." As he spoke, he seemed to pull an axe from mid-air. I was aware of Claude crying out and my body being pushed away from Burgess'. I felt a splash of hot liquid on my cheek, but even more intense was the stinging of fire I felt in my stomach. I looked down. The fabric of my dress was stained red, and the stain was slowly growing. Burgess' axe had found its target, if only barely.

Claude was in far worse shape than I, his shoulder was cut open and blood was pouring from his side, as he'd absorbed Burgess' blow.

"Dahlia, don't struggle," Townnesend chided gently. "Call off your demon and make this easy on us. Your father's happiness depends on it, really."

"I wonder how happy my father would be with you," I wheezed clutching at my stomach. The pain was acute, yet incredibly intense. I felt like I could keel over at any moment. "If he had to live with the knowledge that his only child had been killed, I doubt your presence would do much to ease his pain."

"I'm sure he'd manage without you," she whispered coldly back to me. However, after a pause she added, "Though I suppose you're right. Maybe it would be best to send you back with Burgess. He's built his own facility to treat people like you, you know. Unless, of course, you place no value on the demon's life," she threatened, raising Leviathan to Claude's throat. He did not protest, merely stood still looking calmly defiant.

"I cannot fail in my duties," he said calmly, keeping his eyes on me. "Dahlia will not be going back with Burgess, nor will she lose her father to you." Townnesend merely laughed.

"Those are very strong words coming from a man who is inches away from his end," she smiled. "What makes you so sure you're in a position to do _anything_? Once I remove you from Dahlia's arsenal, she'll have no one to lean on and this silly idea of revenge will fall out of her head."

"Your error is in assuming that I'm her only ally," Claude smiled brilliantly. Townnesend lowered her arm, her eyes widening slightly. She turned to Burgess.

"You recall the maid, Ariadne, yes?" she asked him in a hushed voice. He nodded. "I think we ought to pay her a visit." She turned away from Claude, retreating to her carriage which was a way off. As she passed Burgess, he quickly snatched Leviathan from her hands and lunged with lightning speed at Claude. Before Claude had any time to react, Leviathan had pierced his left leg and rendered it incapacitated. Claude collapsed to his knees, but his expression remained stoic. I cried out to him and- slowly- made my way towards him, collapsing by his side.

"Just so you won't follow us," Burgess winked, slinging Leviathian over his shoulder and turning to follow after Townnesend.

"Are you alright?" I asked Claude, reaching shakily towards his heavily damaged leg. Gently, he stopped my hands with his own. His fierce yellow eyes were calm, yet incredibly unsettled.

"Don't worry about me," he whispered. "We should be attending to _your_ wounds, my lady." He reached gently behind me and unbuttoned the back of my dress. I closed my eyes, and tried to calm my rapid breathing. I had to constantly remind myself that it was Claude removing my dress and that he would not hurt me. However, a few tears still escaped down my cheeks and painful memories flashed behind my eyes.

"Claude," I asked quietly as I slid off the spoiled fabric of my dress, moving gingerly so as not to increase the burning pain within my abdomen. "What is it like to live without fear?" If I had ever met a fearless creature, surely it was Claude. What had a demon to fear?

Claude sat in silence for a moment, taking my dress from my arms.

"Empty," he responded after his moment of silent contemplation. He tore a strip of fabric from the hem of my dress with his teeth. "Lifeless," he continued. He proceeded to tie the fabric around my heavily bloodstained and ripped underclothes, making a makeshift bandage. The slight pressure on my wound was soothing. Claude stood, with great effort, and helped me to stand in turn. He handed my dress back to me, and I quickly clothed myself. "I've forgotten what it is like to be fearless," Claude sighed as he helped me to button up the back of my dress.

"How could you have forgotten?" I asked. "You're never afraid. You've nothing to fear, after all," I reminded him." He laughed lightly.

"Every day," he sighed," I'm afraid I'll lose you," he said gently, stroking the side of my face. I stepped forward and pressed myself against Claude's chest. His body was warm and comforting.

"I should go back to the Manor," I whispered into his chest. "Ariadne will be in trouble. In the meantime, I'll send help back for you."

"Ariadne is safe," Claude assured me. "She's with Caine. Townnesend won't find her. I warned her that we were leaving and there was potential danger. Especially now that Burgess has confirmed my suspicions."

"Suspicions about what?" I asked.

"Burgess," Claude smiled grimly, "Is a shinigami. That's why he wasn't killed by something that would kill mortals. That's why his axe was able to wound me; his axe seems to be his scythe. Townnesend seems to have several good allies herself."

"What about my father?" I asked, panic suddenly setting in. I knew Townnesend wouldn't harm him, but I wasn't so sure about Burgess. If Burgess wanted to know where Ariadne went to, he'd torture that information out of my father. "I need to get back to the Manor quickly."

"Then we shall return to the Manor, my lady," Claude obliged, taking my arm. The two of us staggered at an incredibly slow pace towards out own carriage.

"Are you sure that you can manage, Claude?" I asked, as he seemed to be having a harder time than I was. "I wish there was something, anything I could do to help. I'm afraid I don't know much about healing a demon."

"I'm flattered that you should show concern for me, my lady," Claude smiled, brushing off my desire to assist. My mind still frantically searched for ways to rejuvenate him somehow. Though he was a demon, and hardly mortal, I was afraid he would bleed to death for my sake. But perhaps… my soul would heal him? Didn't souls rejuvenate demons?

"Claude," I said, stopping. "Take some of my soul. I don't know how you do that, but I want you to heal yourself. My soul can heal you, can't it?" I asked. I must have appeared frantic. Claude stopped, the smile on his lips faltering slightly. The expression in his eyes was unreadable. I was afraid to offer him even a piece of my soul, for fear that he would devour it whole before it was time. Yet, I trusted him completely. I wouldn't have offered it to him otherwise.

"Dahlia, I cannot take even a piece of your soul until our contract is complete," he said solemnly. I shook my head.

"Damn the contract!" I snapped. "You're in pain; you've saved me and protected me. The least I can do is return the favor. Claude, I cannot bear to see you in pain." I had already lost Elizabeth because I had failed to act. I was not about to lose my newest guardian angel to the same circumstances.

"My lady," Claude smiled, moving closer. He limped slightly as he closed the short distance between us and collapsed- quite gracefully considering- onto one knee. His eyes were inches from mine, mesmerizing and calm, somehow managing to quell the panic that was bubbling up inside me. Time seemed to stop. The world was still and there was nothing in existence save for Claude and myself. I felt his hands on the sides of my face gently pulling me closer, though it seemed hardly possible to get any closer to the demon without becoming one entity. I felt his warm lips brush against mine, teasingly. However brief our contact, he seemed hesitant to draw away. When at last that moment came, his sly smile returned. "My wounds will heal. As long as you are safe I am whole."

* * *

><p><strong>A\N:<strong> Oh, my goodness! It has indeed been forever since my last update! For this, I apologize. School is psycho and my laptop is still deceased. I've had this written for a while, but the process of transfering it from paper to computer was (obviously) really long. Thanks so much for all the faves and such. It seems I get more attention when I let a story sit for a while... hee hee :) Please review and let me know what you think! I'm excited to continue this story and hear your feedback on the developments that are to come! ;)


	21. An End on the Horizon

Through some miracle, Claude and I safely returned to the Manor. I couldn't recall too much of the journey at any rate. We had departed for home rather late, and sleep claimed me on more than one instance. I fell asleep in Claude's arms, the jostling of the carriage caused less agony with his arms around me than it would have otherwise.

When we arrived at the Manor, the sun was spilling in a brilliant pink glow over the horizon. Claude's injuries seemed to be causing him less pain as his movements had returned somewhat to normal. He exited the carriage first, holding his arms out to assist me down. My stomach was still burning; I was incredibly dismayed to find that the bleeding hadn't stopped much. All of my life seemed to be slowly seeping out such a shallow wound.

As I staggered towards the Manor, with Claude's assistance, of course, I could make out the shape of my father sitting on the steps. As he saw me approach, he jumped to his feet and ran forward. As he ran, a shout of joy escaped his lips. He gently scooped me up into his arms and showered my face with kisses.

"Oh, my darling," he cried. "I was so worried about you! Townnesend had gone to look for you and came back only moments ago, saying something about a carriage wreck. She left to get a doctor and I waited here. I had thought the worst!" When my feet touched the ground, I realized that I was crying with him, mostly filled with relief that Burgess and Townnesend had left my father untouched. That meant that he was safe for now. Somehow, I was going to have to explain the situation to my father before Townnesend returned. I wasn't sure how long she would be, and even less sure how to explain things to my father.

"I'm alright, father," I whispered. "I'm alright." I took his arm and walked with him up the Manor steps. Before we entered, I turned to Claude.

"Find Ariadne and Caine," I mouthed. He nodded in acknowledgement and quickly disappeared from sight. I knew Claude could quickly retrieve my allies, and having three other people present to back up the story I was about to feed to my father would be most helpful.

My father led me into the parlor, where a small fire was burning. I sat on a chair close to the fire and my father tossed another log into the gently burning fireplace.

"I'm not cross with you, Dahlia," my father began as he sat opposite from me. "I just wish to know why you kept your departure a secret from me. I had no idea where you were all day. And you return to me now, bleeding and shaking."

"I wanted to be alone," I muttered. "I should have told you where I was going, but I wasn't quite sure how you'd take the information."

"Where did you go?" my father asked me softly. I sighed.

"I went to the graveyard to visit a friend from Northwood. She died before the fire."

"Why would you think I would disprove of such a visit?" my father asked, his kind eyes shining in the growing light of the fire. "Because she was from Northwood? Who am I to judge who you met at Northwood? I'm no doctor. If she was a friend of yours that is good enough for me."

"Thank you, father," I said, incredibly relieved. "I shan't try to hide my travels from you anymore, you have my word. It was wrong of me."

"I'm just glad you're back here safely." My father stood and approached, kneeling in front of me. He gently brushed my tangled mass of hair away from my forehead, his fingers briefly lingering on my scar. He was silent for several moments, simply studying my visage. He smiled faintly. "How is your stomach wound?" he asked at length. He ran his fingers across the gash in my dress, checking to see if the blood was still wet. When he realized it was still bleeding, his face contorted into worry. I placed my hand across my stomach to add slight pressure, hoping it would staunch the bleeding. I did my best to appear unworried.

"It isn't horrible," I said, smiling. I knew that handling the situation calmly would make things easier for my father. "It only hurts a little. If Claude hadn't dressed it, I'm sure it would be much worse. I am grateful he was there."

"As am I," my father smiled, kissing my head and returning to the chair opposite me. "Was yours the only carriage involved in the accident?" I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. I had wanted to wait until Claude and the others returned before I began my story, but I couldn't lie to my father.

"Townnesend told you there was a carriage wreck?" I asked slowly. My father nodded. I bit my lip a little harder and shook my head. "She lied to you, father. There was no carriage wreck." My father's eyes narrowed and he was silent for a moment.

"What happened, Dahlia? What really happened? What is Townnesend covering up for you?" My father seemed to have left behind his gentle, paternal manner and put on a more commanding and disciplinary one. I hadn't seen him act like this in a long while.

"Father," I said, trying not to sound like a whiny, pleading adolescent, "Townnesend was not covering up for me. She was covering up for herself. I was not in a carriage crash. I was perfectly fine before she showed up."

"You expect me to believe that Townnesend was the one who did this to you? Dahlia-" my father was still attempting to be disciplinary, but I could see him breaking. I realized this was not because of my innocent pleading expression, either. I was certain he thought I was suffering from another psychotic break. "I know things have been hard for you since you returned to the Manor. But, darling, Townnesend has always loved you. She's adored you and she would never do anything to hurt you."

"Yes," I agreed. "That's the way she acts while you're around. She adores _you_, not me. If she has to pretend to love me in order to stay with you, then she'll do it. Why would I lie?" My father's face was torn with so many different emotions. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Finally he resorted to staring into the fire. We sat in silence for several moments. My heart was pounding. I didn't want to push things, but I didn't want this to be the end of our conversation. I knew my father _wanted_ to believe me. I just had no evidence on my side. It was all against me.

"There was no carriage crash?" my father asked again at length.

"No," came Claude's voice from the doorway. Ariadne and Caine were standing behind him, looking very somber. "You can take my word for it, sir, if you do not believe Dahlia."

"Then this _is_ about Townnesend?" my father asked, speaking slowly. His eyes flitted from Claude to Ariadne to Caine and finally to me. All of us nodded. My father's face, previously torn in between so many different emotions, at last adopted a stoic one. "Tell me everything," he said, flatly.

"Excuse me, sir," Caine said, stepping forward. "My name is Bartholomew Caine. I worked with the police on investigating the death of Victoria Grimm several years ago."

"Yes," my father nodded. "Yes, I remember you. You were the one who was convinced it was a murder, though you had little to no evidence to prove that it was. Most people wrote you off as a conspiracy theorist, myself included." My father's blunt honesty seemed to break down some of Caine's courage, but the young man continued, nonetheless.

"Well, I stand before you today with, what I feel, is the most influential piece of evidence proving that your wife was murdered." Caine knelt on the carpet between my father and I, and opened a large folder he had clasped in his hands. "In the notes I had taken from the investigation it was discovered that your governess, Ms. Townnesend had frequent arguments with the Countess."

"Yes," my father agreed. "They are- were old friends. Friends tend to argue. Victoria always gave Cecile the freedom to speak her mind, unlike most of the household servants. This is not evidence," my father stated. However, his tone suggested that he did not completely wish to write off all that Caine was saying. At the mention of my mother's murder, he seemed to revert back to melancholy.

"I have done my research, I assure you," Caine smoothly rebutted, "Shortly after the death of your wife, through my work, I was fortunate enough to run into your old friend, James Phantomhive. Though the case was closed, it was still a popular topic and our conversation naturally flowed in the direction of Victoria's death. In talking with James, I discovered that his governess' daughter, Cecile Townnesend, was always quite taken with you. Were you aware of this?"

"At the time no," my father said, slowly. "But once Victoria died…" My father's face fell. Caine continued:

"Cecile Townnesend loved you. And she still does, undoubtedly. However, what ties all this evidence together, is a recent bit of information that I've gathered. Have you even wondered why it was so easy for Cecile to get into contact with a doctor that had room to take on another patient? With insanity being such a worry, most places in the city were full. But she didn't have to look long, did she?" My father shook his head. "I found these patient lists from various mental health facilities all across England. Several of which have patients with the surname of Townnesend or Carrington, which is Cecile's mother's maiden name. Cecile Townnesend has a history of familial mental illness. What we know of the plague is that it is primarily genetic."

"So Cecile is ill?" my father asked.

"Most likely, yes," Caine agreed. "If you pair that with her odd obsession and fascination with you, you've got a very likely candidate for murder."

"Not to mention the fact," Claude cut in, "that you have the testimony of a witness who was there and saw the whole thing." I could feel all eyes in the room gazing at me. Normally I would have felt uncomfortable, but mostly I was just proud. Proud that Caine had found all the necessary evidence to support my story. There was little likelihood that Townnesend was going to walk away this time. "Children are so innocent. They hardly have the imaginations to make up something as gruesome as murder, don't you agree?" Claude asked my father.

"Yes," my father said quietly. "Dahila had an imagination, it is true, but it was never dark. It would be… impossible for her to make up such a story." My father glanced over at me, his violet eyes glistening. His acknowledgement of the truth behind my story brought me great relief. I felt as though a weight was lifted off of my shoulders and I could finally breathe.

"As I _am_ a doctor," Claude continued, "I find that Mr. Caine's findings are quite logical. From what I have observed of Cecile Townnesend, she is very erratic and unpredictable. The murder of Victoria Grimm does not seem too far from her reach."

My father stood and clapped his hand on Claude's shoulder. I couldn't quite read his expression. My father turned to me and kissed me gently on the forehead.

"My Dahlia," he said, smiling sadly. "I'm so sorry for all that I have put you through, willingly and not. I should have believed you, but I let too many outside emotions get in my way. Can you forgive a blind old fool?"

"Father," I said, throwing my arms around his neck. "I love you. I always will."

"I'm sure somewhere in my heart I knew you were right all along," he whispered as he walked out of the room. I heard the large front door of the Manor open and then close gently.

"How do you feel?" Ariadne asked, stepping toward me. She helped me to stand.

"I'm alright," I said, smiling. "I feel much better now that you and Caine are here. I think we've done it. We've finally done it. Now that my father is on our side, we've just won over the only prize Townnesend wanted."

"Well," Caine said brightly, trying to cheer the damp mood in the room, "I shall be very pleased to be rid of the woman once and for all." I laughed in agreement. For the first time since I was a young girl, the laugh that spilled out of my throat was my own. It wasn't the tinkling, girlish one that I pretended to possess. It was odd sounding, as though my body had long forgotten how to truly laugh. Though, as odd as it sounded, I knew that it was mine. That for once in my life I was beginning to feel happy again.

My laughter was interrupted by a loud cry from outside. Immediately all the joy that I had felt was cut off and I was plunged back into a state of fear and despair. I exchanged worried glances with the others in the room before I hurried toward the Manor's front door.

"I think things are far from over," Ariadne whispered as I pulled the large doors open.

Townnesend was standing in front of my father, tears spilling down her face. She was gently clasping at his vest. Through her tears, she was saying something to him. Pleading with him, it seemed like, but my father remained stone still and gave her a cold look. I glanced around quickly, looking for Burgess, but he was nowhere in sight. I made a mental note to myself to be on my guard. I stepped closer to my father, Townnesend's pleas becoming more audible.

"-Would never lie to you, Hector. Never! I love you," she said. Though she was crying, she was speaking tenderly. Her eyes were soft and her face held an expression of true love that I never thought the witch would be capable of feeling.

"But you don't," my father said. He spoke to Townnesend gently as well, though his tone was more of one he would use with a small child. "Cecile, if you had loved me-" his voice broke. "If you had truly loved me, you wouldn't have tormented me so."

"Torment you? What have I done to torment you? Hector, I have loved you. I have cared for you in your moments of greatest despair. I have cared for your child as though she were my own. I have taken you both into my heart for safekeeping and would never let any harm come to you!"

"Yet you have ripped out of my hands what was most precious to me. And you have treated my daughter likewise," my father said. Townnesend's face immediately hardened. Her tears ceased. Instead of a soft, pleading glow, there was a fierce, deathly fury. She turned towards me, stepping away from my father.

"Good move," she said, smiling darkly. "I suppose there is no purpose for the kid gloves anymore, is there?" She wheeled around, calling for Burgess. I ran toward my father, and held him tightly. He had no idea what was to come next. And though I knew more about whose company we were keeping, neither did I.

It seemed as though Burgess appeared out of thin air, Leviathan in hand. His face was lit up into a smile. Upon his appearance, Claude's face darkened, and Ariadne clutched onto Caine.

"It's not time for games, anymore, Burgess," Townnesend said flatly. Burgess nodded. He moved toward Claude raising Leviathan. Before my mind could really process anything going on around me, I tore myself from my father's arms, running to protect Claude. I wasn't really sure what I hoped to do; I only knew that my feet were carrying me in that direction. My movements were halted as Burgess, sensing my ever nearing presence, turned on me. I backed up as quickly as I could think to, but Leviathan was longer than I had estimated. I found myself fortunate, however grim the situation, that I was given a new wound several inches above the old one. If Burgess had reopened my stomach wound, I would be incapacitated. Still, from the force of the blow, I was sent staggering backwards, my head feeling incredibly light. I realized I couldn't afford to lose much more blood. Yet, I felt Ariadne's strong arms catch me before I fell, her voice crooning gently to me. I was aware that Burgess was overpowered by Claude, Leviathan knocked out of his hands. As the sword was sent sailing through the air, I felt hope bubble up inside me. Perhaps it would land far away and things would be settled without it. Luck, however, is not a constant ally. Leviathan landed at Townnesend's feet. She picked it up, grinning hugely. I willed my body to move. To stop the woman before she hurt any of my loved ones, but it was of no use. There was so much pain in my chest and stomach, I could do nothing but scream. My father was rushing toward her, his thoughts so like mine.

"Cecile!" my father yelled angrily. Townnesend turned on him, almost inviting him to stop her. My father, inches away from the woman, stopped. She smiled broadly at him. He reached up to take the sword from her, but she moved it out of his grasp. I wished my father wasn't such a gentleman or such a diplomat. Perhaps he was afraid of his rage consuming him; I knew he didn't want to hurt her. But I wished he would move. I wished he would overpower her before she got the upper hand, as I knew she would.

"Hector," she spoke softly. "You were wrong about me. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I was only trying to make you see that. My love for you was stronger than Victoria's ever could have been."

"Do not speak ill of my wife, woman," my father said, his voice a dangerous quiet. He moved towards Townnesend once more, but she was always a step ahead of him.

"I wish I had come to this conclusion long ago," she said, her voice full of melancholy. " Then perhaps all collateral damage could have been avoided," she looked in my direction. "Call me selfish, but if I cannot have you, then no one can. Not Victoria. Not your daughter. Not her children. No one." As she spoke, she took several steps back, lifting her sword. My father had no time to react. Townnesend was upon him, Leviathan flashing. I shut my eyes before I had to witness the inevitable. I knew I was screaming, that I was too weak to rush to my father's aid. I felt like I was reverting back to the little seven-year-old girl who watched from the top of the stairs as her mother was murdered. I was incredibly useless. Ariadne's grip on me tightened and she softly sang some song to me, though it had no effect. All in a moment, Ariadne's singing stopped. Her comforting grip disappeared. I opened my eyes.

Caine was standing, or doing his best to, between my father and Townnesend. Leviathan had found its place embedded in his heart. There was pain etched into every inch of his face, but he faced Townnesend defiantly and pulled Leviathan out of his chest. He handed the sword to my father just before collapsing. Ariadne caught him, and led him off a way, doing her best to tend to the dying man.

Townnesend was standing wide-eyed facing my father, calling for Burgess. Neither Burgess or Claude were in sight. She was on her own.

"I should kill you," my father said. "I have every right to, not to mention every desire to. But that would be too easy. That would be too quick an ending for all the pain you've caused. You've destroyed everything in the Grimm household that you've touched, and I'll destroy you for it. But not with death. There's a facility in London for people like you. You're certainly familiar with them; you had my daughter imprisoned in one." Before Townnesend could open her mouth to argue, Leviathan's hilt met with the back of her skull and she collapsed. My father dropped Leviathan and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. He walked toward me, tired and worn looking, wrapping his arms gently around me. I could never recall a moment when my father cried. Even when my mother died, he did not cry. I'm sure that in the countless hours he spent alone after her death, he cried very much for her. Yet as my father and I sat on the ground holding each other, he wept. It was a quiet weeping. Weeping in relief and past grief, more than actual sorrow. He held to me tightly, burying his face in my neck. We sat this way for several moments before my father heaved a huge sigh.

"I believe it's finally over, Dahlia."

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><p><strong>A\N:<strong>So I kinda fell off the face of the planet... sorry. BUT, I did graduate! Hooray! I'm still SO glad that in my absence this story still recieved so much attention! You guys really, really rock! I PROMISE this story will be finished this summer, and I won't leave it sitting for months on end. Promise. For reals. :)


	22. How to Break a Heart II

**A\N:**So, quick foreword, this chapter is in Ariadne's POV. Just in case things don't make sense at first. Thanks for all the reviews and such! You all are fabulous and I don't deserve it :)

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><p>"You're going to be just fine," I said, pressing my lips to his forehead. "Just keep breathing. The worst part is over. You're safe," I tried to soothe him, though I was in more of a hysterical mood than he.<p>

"You're a terrible liar," he laughed. His laugh was shallow, and he winced. He tried to make it look like he was in less pain, but his efforts were to no avail. "I doubt there's much to be done."

Dahlia ran over to Caine's side, taking his hand gently between her small ones. Her large violet eyes were shimmering with tears, causing mine to silently spill over.

"Caine, I'm so sorry," she said softly. "I mean, I'm grateful to you, of course. But I feel terrible. You shouldn't have-"

"-Don't feel bad for me," he interrupted, smiling through cracked lips. "I want you to know, I feel glad to go. We humans don't contract with each other, but that doesn't mean we aren't willing to pay the ultimate price for each other. I think in a way, that's a stronger bond." He winked at me. "I'm glad I met you, Dahlia. I'm glad." He began to cough violently. I gently shooed Dahila away.

"You're going to be just fine, Caine," I whispered. I gently caressed him, brushing his hair out of his face. "I'm going to make everything better. Stay with me, alright?" I was pleading now. There was no mask of strength for me to hide behind. No brave face that I could put on for Caine. I was terrified that this was the end. I was no longer the terrifying demon I knew I once was. I was reduced to a beggar, fighting mortality just as all humankind must do. Caine smiled up at me, his eyes slowly drifting shut, his breaths becoming shallower. "Eyes on me Caine," I commanded, though my tone sounded more urgent. "Don't give up."

"Ariadne," he whispered, struggling to keep his eyes open. "Would you sing me to sleep? I'm only tired, I'm not giving up. Please?" I lost all composure, but did as Caine asked.

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><p><em>The human world was incredibly dull. I wasn't even sure why I was roaming it; I hadn't had a contract for some time. Things in my life were amazingly drab and desperate. Perhaps I was hoping to snatch up a victim to contract with. Perhaps I was hoping for some bloodshed. That would explain why I was wandering around the worst parts of town. Though, there was hardly any thrill in it for me. I knew none of the mortals could touch me if they tried.<em>

_It was a typical summer day; the sky was dark, and a slight drizzle was falling from the sky. So far, nothing unusual was happening in these dark streets. All was quiet and still. As I walked, I kept my ears peeled for any sort of sound that would prove to provide some form of entertainment and excitement. I was focusing for noise coming from ahead, and didn't notice the quiet footsteps from behind. Out of the shadows of a darkened alley stepped a tall, grim looking man._

_ "Excuse me, miss," he said in an oddly polite voice. He held out a white rose. I found human expressions of endearment quite boring and unattractive, but I smiled graciously nonetheless._

_ "For me?" I asked, as I reached to accept his gift. He nodded and placed the rose in my hand. "You're too kind, sir." His smile widened, and I felt something strike me against the back of the head. Finally, I was getting the sort of excitement I was looking for. I would let these humans think they had the upper hand and then slaughter them for good measure. I tried to keep my expression one of pain, rather than one of joy. I was roughly pushed to the ground._

_ I had only two male assailants. The tall man who had offered me the rose knelt across my legs and grabbed the hand in which the rose was clutched. He squeezed it tightly, causing blood to slowly seep out of my fingers. I had always fancied myself an actress, so I let out a cry of pain, though the thorns only sent a small throbbing feeling through my hand. My reaction pleased the males. The tall man's partner began searching my dress for pockets and anything of value. I was wearing a few jewels, which were promptly removed. When his search proved to be mostly unfruitful the man began to grow frustrated. He pulled a knife from his belt. I widened my eyes and cried a little louder before a big hand was clapped over my mouth. This situation was getting better and better._

_ "Where's your handbag?" the man asked, pushing his knife against my throat. The cool metal burned pleasantly._

_ "Please," I gasped as the hand was removed from my mouth. "Please, I haven't got one. You have to believe me. I would give it to you if I had it with me!"_

_ "She's got to be lying," said my tall captor._

_ "I'm not lying," I cried loudly. I let out a fake sob._

_ "A woman from money- like yourself- doesn't just walk around without her handbag. I've lived long enough to know that. You tell us where your handbag is, missy, or you'll lose a lot more than a couple pound notes."_

_ I was preparing to throw the tall buffoon off of my knees and enjoy myself, when a deep voice called from the end of the alley._

_ "Come now, gentlemen," it said, cheerily. "Two against one is hardly fair, don't you think?" The thugs only gave the man quizzical looks in return. "Allow me to even the playing field." The man who fancied himself my hero pulled out a pistol, aiming it at the tall man squatted on my legs. The pistol was fired quickly, and with incredible aim. One of the man's legs began to gush blood and he toppled off of me. His partner rushed to his side and helped him to stand. The man with the pistol drew nearer and the two thugs ran off into the dark alley more quickly than they had appeared._

_ As the man with the pistol approached, he re-holstered his weapon and offered his hand to me. I could finally make out his features. His wavy, unkempt hair was a chestnut color, his eyes were bright- yet gray, his face youthful- though it held an incredible sadness and air of maturity. He grinned broadly as I accepted his hand, the smile reaching all the way to his eyes and causing them to sparkle. _

_ I couldn't help but be slightly frustrated with my rescuer- I had hoped to turn the situation in my favor. Now this man had taken the only bit of fun I was about to have. Though, he thought he was a hero. I supposed I should offer him some sort of thanks, as was customary to humans. I picked up the white rose that had fallen to the street and offered it to him._

_ "Thank you, sir," I said, trying to appear genuine. "You saved my life. If you hadn't been passing down that alley, I don't-"_

_ "There's no need to dwell on what could have been, miss," the young man said, accepting my offering and still smiling. "You're safe now. Though, I do suggest we get to a safer part of town, yes?" He offered me his arm, and I accepted._

_ "I'm incredibly indebted to you," I said quickly. I didn't want this human around to spoil my fun for too long. I needed to make him forget me as quickly as possible. Fulfilling any sort of debt I owed him would certainly do the trick. "Is there anything that I could do that would make it up to you? If you walked me back home I'm sure I have something in my handbag that could compensate you, sir."_

_ "My name is Bartholomew Caine," said the youth slowly. "You really don't owe me anything. It's my job to help people. Well, it's sort of my job to help people. I'm a police journalist. So, I suppose I really only help people after they're dead. But I guess it's a good thing I was able to help you before you ended up like the rest of my clients, yes?" He laughed a little. I couldn't help but join in with him. I hardly believed what I heard. I hadn't realized that humans like this Caine boy still existed. All of the ones I had met were greedy and selfish and would never do a good turn if there wasn't profit in it for them. Of course, humans like this boy would put me out of business, but I found his company almost refreshing. He seemed genuinely happy. Like nothing in his life could go wrong._

_ "Oh, you must let me make it up to you, Mister Caine," I pleaded. He chuckled._

_ "Well, I suppose if you feel like you must," he said. Here it was. I knew he wasn't completely selfless. He was going to ask for something grand, something that would more than compensate for what he'd done. If he'd known what I truly was, then he'd know that I didn't owe him anything. That I was perfectly safe in the situation he'd gotten me out of. "You'll join me for lunch next Tuesday. I've got to finish some reports, but I'll be done before lunch and would very much enjoy your company."_

_ My expectations were crushed. He was a selfless being. He was the kind of human that I thought never existed._

_ "Alright then," I said. "Lunch it is."_

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><p><em>Bartholomew Caine proved to be more interesting than I had initially thought. I found our meetings continuing after that Tuesday lunch. Our walks through London's streets were becoming longer and more intimate. I felt as though I could share pieces of myself with him. I knew I could trust him. It was odd, being in the company of someone so innocent. Yet, I found it continually refreshing and peaceful.<em>

_ On this particular evening, I was in Caine's home. He lived with his sister, who was older and married. His sister and her husband were both out for the evening, and we had the place to ourselves. We sat in the parlor, close to the fire that was burning in the fireplace._

_ "She likes you, you know," Caine said, smiling._

_ "Who?" I asked, blushing a little._

_ "My sister. She told me so. She made it very clear to me that I was lucky to have you," he laughed a little. "But of course I already knew that."_

_ "You did?" I asked, averting my eyes. I was rather embarrassed at myself. Though, the embarrassment wasn't as strong as it was when I'd first begun to spend most of my days with Caine. This boy made me feel. That, in and of itself, was something that I previously thought no human was capable of doing. Not only was I feeling human emotions, I was acting like a human. It was disgusting, but I enjoyed it all the same. The thought of not being with Caine anymore was completely unbearable._

_ "Of course," Caine laughed. "Ariadne, you're completely wonderful. You're intelligent, kind, brave, and absolutely beautiful. I _am_ lucky to have you." There was a pause. My heart was pounding so heavily against my rib cage. Caine was the sweetest human I had ever met. He was honest with me, he was kind to me. He shared everything with me. Here he was, confessing his love to me, and I hadn't been completely honest with him. He thought I was a mortal. He thought our relationship would be uncomplicated. That we would court for several more months before an engagement. That we would be married in a church on a hilltop. That we would live in a small house with our children. Had I been human, that would be the case. But I was not. The thought of settling down with Caine frightened me , yet I wanted to do so. There were simply too many obstacles in our path to do so. Yet, I felt I should tell him the truth. That I should share all of myself with him as he had done with me._

_ "Ariadne?" Caine spoke, breaking the silence. "I do have you, don't I?" He asked, laughing a little, though his question was completely serious._

_ "Caine, you have all of me," I responded firmly. "More so than any other living creature. But-" I sighed._

_ "What is it, love?" He asked._

_ "I have to tell you something," I sighed, standing. I moved away from the fire, immediately missing its warmth. "Is there somewhere private we can go? I don't want to risk being overheard."_

_ "Yes, of course," he said, slowly. He took my hand and let me silently through the dark house and up the staircase. He seemed a bit on edge; I was certain that my mood was causing his uneasiness. "My sister never comes in my room, and it's quite private," he said, leading me inside and shutting the door behind us. I lit one of the lamps in his room and set it on the dresser beside his bed before sitting. Bartholomew sat next to me, holding an expression of worry._

_ "Caine, you love me?" I asked, stalling slightly. I was making a huge risk by revealing my true identity to someone I wasn't contracting with. I had to be sure it was the right decision. If things turned out badly for me, I wasn't sure I'd be able to kill Caine and quell the rumors. That would make things harder on the other demons as well._

_ "You're the thing I love most in this world," he said, softly. He took my hand. "Why do you ask?"_

_ "I'm not like you, Caine," I said, slowly._

_ "Yes, thank God for that," Caine laughed. I laughed too, though my tension hardly disappeared. "What is it that is bothering you so, Ariadne?" He asked gently._

_ "Things aren't going to be simple for us, Caine," I said, laying back and heaving a sigh. Caine lay beside me._

_ "No offense," he said, kissing the tip of my nose, "But when I met you, I hardly expected for things to be simple. You always seemed quite complex. But none of your complexities are going to make me leave you."_

_ "None of them?" I asked, doubtfully. _

_ "None of them," Caine responded firmly._

_ "I've been able to share so much of myself with you," I said, scooting closer and resting my head on his chest. "I feel guilty I've yet to share this with you." I paused. "You believe in the existence of demons and angels, yes?" I asked._

_ "Yes," Caine answered. I could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn't really sure where the conversation was going._

_ "What if I were to tell you that I am a demon?" I asked, craning my neck to look up at his expression. He looked thoughtful for a moment, showing no true emotion._

_ "You seem more like an angel to me," he said at length. "You're hardly evil."_

_ "Demons aren't evil," I said, trying to soften the blow. "They merely thrive in chaos. They exist to provide opposition. We contract to serve humans in exchange for their souls."_

_ "I suppose you would fit the bill, then," Caine smiled. "I'm certain any man would give their soul to you, and you certainly thrive in chaos." He kissed the top of my head. "You're really a demon, then?" he asked. I nodded, biting my lip. So far, the news hadn't bothered Caine, but human emotions were easily changed. Perhaps the information hadn't sunk in yet. "Demons aren't immortal, are they?" he asked._

_ "They are," I said. "And not all of them look like I do," I laughed a little. Caine sighed. There was a painful silence. "Caine?" I asked."I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier. I'm pitiful, really. I'm a demon, I'm ruthless, powerful, and imposing, but I was afraid to tell a mortal what I really was. It's foolish really. I let things go too far before I was completely honest with you, so it would make sense that you're upset. And I didn't know how you would take the news. If you took it badly, I didn't think I'd be able to-" My lips were stopped by Caine's. His were soft and gentle, yet commanding. My voice fell silent._

_ "I'm not upset," he said, as he pulled away. "I always figured there was something different about you. You never seemed upset about what happened in the alley that day. You were calm. I guess I just never imagined you'd be… well, an immortal demon." He reached into his pocket. "I'm honored to have your love, really," he said. "It's just that the whole immortality business throws off my plans a bit." He smiled sadly and took my hand. He slid a small silver band onto my left ring finger. _

_ "Caine, I…" My voice stopped of its own volition this time. I kissed him again, eagerly. If things hadn't turned out this way. If we could be together. Forever. If there wasn't such a thing as mortality…_

_ "I have an idea," I said. "Things don't have to be complicated. If you were… like me, we could-" Caine cut me off by shaking his head._

_ "No," he said, though his voice wasn't rough. He was calm. "My mortality makes me who I am. I'm not quite ready to give it up. And I don't know if I'd be able to score as many contracts as you. I only know how to be human. If I were anything else, you might not love me," he laughed a little._

_ "Nonsense," I said, my voice still carrying a pleading tone. "I'd love you no matter what you were."_

_ "Perhaps when the time is right," He said. "I'm content with the way things are now, aren't you? I'm content to spend all my days with you as myself."_

_ "You're right," I sighed. "Demons aren't entirely immortal, either, you know. We're just a lot harder to kill. Caine, when you die-" Caine kissed me again, smiling all the while._

_ "I've a while before that happens, Ariadne," He laughed. "Let's not jinx it."_

_ "Yes, let's not," I said, kissing him again. The stairs in the house creaked, and a light flickered past the closed door._

_ "Looks like my house-mates are home," Caine whispered. I stood and began to walk toward the door._

_ "I should be leaving then," I said, turning to leave Caine. He quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me back down onto the bed, grinning devilishly._

_ "My dear girl," he said, kissing my neck. "Don't you know how improper it would look for you to emerge from a gentleman's room at this hour? Honestly, think of the rumors it would cause."_

_ "Well then, what do you propose, my dear Mister Caine?" I asked, stifling a laugh._

_ "You've no choice but to bunk here, I'm afraid. You can sneak out with me early in the morning. I have to be at the police station at the crack of dawn anyway. That way, my sister and her husband will never know you were here past visiting hours," Caine's face was lit up by his boyish grin._

_ "My, my, you are trouble, aren't you?" I teased._

_ "That makes two of us," he winked as I unbuttoned his vest._

* * *

><p><em>"You said no," Caine said, hopefully. "Please tell me you refused her again." His face fell when I shook my head. "Ariadne, I…" he sighed. "I'm torn. If I die, we're separated. But I can't have that woman using you. I would rather die a thousand deaths than see you do things you don't want to do."<em>

_ "Caine, I'm only doing it for a while. We'll work our way out of this, we always do. I can't let her hurt you. I can't. She found my one weakness," I paced back and forth. "If I do what she says, you'll be safe."_

_ "Ariadne, that woman killed Count Grimm's wife. Who says she's a woman of her word? As of right now, neither of us are safe." Caine was clearly worried for my safety above his own. It was frustrating. The man was more fragile than I, yet he insisted on protecting me._

_ "What was I supposed to do?" I cried. "This is just as hard for me as it is for you. I wasn't about to hand you over to her. At least this way, I know _you're_ going to be safe. That's all I care about."_

_ "But to protect me, you're putting yourself in incredible danger. You're hurting me, too. When you're with her, I can't protect you. I can't know that you're out of harm's way." Caine reasoned. I couldn't take it. There was no win in this situation. That Townnesend woman had really thought of everything. How she found out I was a demon I'll never know. _

"_Bartholomew, I know this is dangerous." I said, trying to remain calm. "Can't you admit you're the one that needs protecting once in a while? If you die, we can't be together anymore. Doesn't that frighten you? Because it scares the hell out of me!" I exploded._

_ "I'm…" Caine stepped closer, taking me in his arms. "I'm more frightened of being separated from you than anything. But you can't do this."_

_ "We'll work something out," I said. "We'll outsmart her. You could prove that she's a killer. Then she'd be punished according to the law, and we'd be free."_

_ "What if she commands you to stop her arrest?" Caine asked. I sighed. It did appear as though we were stuck._

_ "Just let me learn about her for a couple of days. When I come back in town to visit, we can work something out. Everyone has got a past. Perhaps we could blackmail her right back," I suggested._

_ "Be safe, Ariadne," Caine said, kissing the top of my head._

_ "We'll think of something. We've stayed together this far," I said, trying to be reassuring. "I wouldn't have to worry about this so much if you weren't mortal." I tried dropping a hint. Caine smiled._

_ "Mortality," he sighed. "It's humanity's Achilles' Heel, isn't it?"_

* * *

><p>"Caine," I asked softly as I ended my song. "Caine, is it time? There's one last thing I can do for you." Caine's eyes fluttered open slowly. He smiled again, reaching his hand up to touch my cheek.<p>

"If you think it will help," he said slowly. "Mortality isn't really of much use to me anymore, is it?"

"No," I laughed through my tears. "No, and it never suited you anyway. Just hang on for a moment more. I promise I can make the pain go away."

"You already have," he said, still smiling. He took another shallow breath. "Ariadne," he was speaking slowly. "You'll marry me, right?" he asked. "When this is all over, and we're both immortal, you'll still marry me?"

"Of course I will. I'll marry you, Bartholomew Caine, so don't you give up on me." I smiled sadly. "You have to tell me to make you a demon," I told him. I was sure I knew how to do this. I'd never done it before, but if I was ordered to, it couldn't be that hard, could it? "Caine, just order me to make you a demon. Then this nightmare will be over."

Caine's eyes were shut. My heart was sinking. His chest wasn't fluttering up and down with shallow breaths.

"No, no, no, no!" I cried. "Caine! You bastard, you can't quit on me now!" All of my yelling did nothing to wake Caine. His face was peaceful, beautiful, angelic, even. I kissed him. His lips were still warm, as though they would eagerly return my kiss. It was painful to know they wouldn't. They never would. I was separated from Caine forever. I knew what awaited me and I knew what awaited Caine. It seemed that though fate had caused our paths to cross, it also made sure that our paths would never cross again. We were headed in completely different directions.

"Caine," I whispered in his ear. "Heaven. It's.. It's a better world…"


	23. Death Suits No Man

It was odd how the morning could dawn so brightly in contrast to the dark and gloomy events of the previous evening. Yet, if there was one thing I had learned in my short life, it was that the world kept on turning, despite your misfortunes.

Three carriages were driving to London that day; one transporting my father and Townnesend, one transporting Ariadne and Caine, and the third carrying Claude and myself. The business to be carried out in town was hardly pleasing. I was really only going for one reason; I owed Caine's family an explanation and my gratitude. I hadn't really wanted to accompany Townnesend to her new home, I would have been entirely satisfied with the knowledge that she was rotting in hell. I had no desire to travel near an asylum again in my life, and spoke to my father about leaving after Caine's family was notified of his death. I hated to leave him alone with that woman; he had suffered just as much at her hands as I had, but I could not bear this burden any longer.

"Whatever happened to Burgess?" I asked Claude, breaking the heavy silence filling the atmosphere of the carriage. His gold eyes seemed to light up at the question, a fraction of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Suffice it to say your orders have been finally carried out," he replied. "Naturally I assumed you'd be willing to accept the consequences."

"Of course," I nodded.

"Now that it's over, are you relieved, My Lady?" He asked.

"It isn't over," I sighed. "There are a few other loose ends I need to tie up. And then, of course, there is the matter of settling my debt to you."

"I thought you had forgotten," Claude smiled, his tone almost sounding pleased. In all honesty, I had almost forgotten Claude's true nature. In the past few weeks, it seemed I was living a lie; I had a demon's love. Now I was grounded once more. Surely Claude cared for me to an extent, but once he had served his purpose, my only use in existing was to satiate his hunger. The thought of dying would have bothered me several months ago, but now I was quite resigned to my fate. In fact, I preferred the idea of dying at Claude's hands, and didn't begrudge him for it. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid of his true nature anymore; now that it was- once again- apparent I was of no use to him.

As the carriage lurched to a stop, Claude was quickly on his feet to assist me out of the carriage. Once my feet were firmly on solid ground, he made his way to Ariadne's carriage to assist with Caine's coffin. My father came up behind me, gently taking hold of my hand. Wordlessly, we comforted each other. Though neither of us had known Caine for as long as we would have liked, we already felt an incredible emptiness with his absence. My father and I made our way to Caine's door without waiting for his coffin to be pulled out of the carriage.

Caine's sister looked an awful lot like he did. She had the same sad blue-grey eyes, the same shade of chestnut colored hair, and a smile almost identical to her brother's. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw guests she didn't recognize at her door. Her hand flitted to her abdomen, which I noticed, was large. She was pregnant, I realized, feeling even worse for the reason of my visit. Caine had so much to lose, but he thought nothing of it when he rushed to protect my father.

"I'm sorry to call unannounced," My father apologized quickly. "I'm afraid I do have urgent news, however."

"Please, come in," she said, pulling the door open wider to allow us entry. "The parlor is this way," she said, leading us through her home. "Arthur!" she called up the stairs, "We have guests!"

As we entered the parlor, she motioned for us to sit. I glanced around the house. It was hardly grand, but it looked… _lived_ in. Things weren't in perfect order, but comfortably cluttered into spaces. There was an air of humanity around the place. Mostly it appeared to be a place of joy, though grief was subtly painted into the atmosphere as well.

A tall dark haired man entered the parlor, carrying a tray of tea. He set it on the table in front of us, smiling.

"I hope this will do, Sir and miss," he said, as he sat by Caine's sister across from us.

"Please, call me Hector," my father said, offering his hand. "Hector Grimm. This is my daughter, Dahlia."

"Arthur Wilmore," the man said, accepting my father's hand. "This is my wife, Lucianne." My father took Lucianne's hand and gently kissed it. "What do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Arthur asked.

"You're relatives of Bartholomew Caine?" my father asked, his voice slow and tone solemn. Arthur and Lucianne both nodded.

"He's my brother," Lucianne spoke softly. "He's not in some sort of trouble, is he? He's been acting very strangely the past few months."

"He's not in any trouble, Madam," my father replied hesitantly. "I just-"

The parlor door swung open slowly to reveal Ariadne. She walked into the room, her eyes slightly puffy and pink, but very well composed. Both Arthur and Lucianne stood.

"Ariadne," Lucianne cried in shock. She studied the demon's face a moment, her expression becoming shrouded in gloom, her sad eyes becoming infinitely and endlessly distraught. "Bartholomew, is he-" Before Lucianne could finish her question, she knew the answer. Ariadne and Lucianne embraced tightly, sinking onto the couch beside Arthur. Arthur put a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Your brother died protecting me," my father said softly. I suddenly realized how incredibly guilty he felt for Caine's death. Though, Caine's death wasn't my father's fault. If it could be blamed on anyone, it should be blamed on me. I shouldn't have asked for his help, knowing that there would be casualties. "He has always cared very much for my family," my father continued. "From the time my wife died until now. In a way, he was more invested in the welfare of my family than I was."

"He was always a selfless boy," Lucianne smiled sadly, her tears unceasing. "I always warned him about his work; I felt it was too dangerous for someone like him. But helping meant so much to him."

"I know there is nothing I can do or say that will ease your burden," my father said. "But I have made some arrangements for his burial, it is the most I can do."

"He'd want to be buried in the family plot," Arthur said, his voice thick.

"It shall be done," my father said. He paused, almost losing his composure. He looked down at the floor, his eyes brimming, his face contorted into an expression that I couldn't describe. Seeing my father's pain at the situation at hand only made my guilt worse. I had wanted revenge. I had wanted to make things right. Though, it seemed that – for the most part- all I had managed to do was cause more suffering.

"Don't blame yourself," Lucianne spoke, addressing my father. "My brother was stubborn and never did anything he didn't want to. If he didn't care enough about you and your family to die for you, he wouldn't have. There was nothing you could have done otherwise. If my brother loved you enough to die for you, then I'm sure I shall love you just the same." My father managed to mumble a quick thanks.

"If there is anything further that we can do for you," I said, filling in for my father, "Please don't hesitate to ask."

"You're very kind," Lucianne smiled. "And I thank you for the honor of your visit. I'll see you both at the funeral, then?" She asked.

"You have my word," I promised, standing, my father following suit.

"If you don't mind, Count," Ariadne spoke up, "I should like to remain here. Until everything is taken care of, at least."

"Take as long as you need, child," my father granted, smiling sadly. He gave a nod to all in the room before placing his hand gently on my shoulder and guiding me out of the Wilmore home.

The carriages were waiting for us outside. "I'll see you at the Manor this evening, dove," my father said, turning toward his carriage.

"Father," I called. "Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" I asked, suddenly realizing that I had changed my mind. He shouldn't have to deliver Townnesend alone. Besides, I was the one who had decided to get revenge in the first place. It was only right to see it through to the end.

"No, I'll go alone," my father assured me, kissing my head. "You needn't go near an institution again. I'll see you at home."

"Goodbye, father," I called, retreating to my own carriage. As I pulled away from Caine's home, I turned to Claude, as there were several matters on my mind. "Though I've technically completed my goal, will you help me to take care of a few things?"

"Of course, My Lady," he nodded. "My work is not completed until you are satisfied."

"I want for my father to be taken care of after…" my voice trailed off. Though I was sure that I felt comfortable with the thought of dying, I couldn't bring myself to verbally acknowledge my fate. "It would be unbearable for him to lose me now," I continued. "But that would be unfair to you, and I couldn't go back on my word."

"There are loopholes in the contract, My Lady, if that is what you are looking for," Claude suggested. I was surprised at his response. He spoke so casually and freely about cheating the contract. It wasn't as though he was ordered to. In a sense, it seemed as though he _wanted_ for me to use a loophole. But I knew I couldn't. In any case, after all I had done, I deserved what was coming to me.

"It isn't," I said, firmly. "I just want for him to be happy. To not have to deal with the loss and pain anymore. To continue to live his life and be successful. Is there anything that you could do?"

"If you order it to be done, it shall," Claude nodded.

"I do," I said, slowly. I trusted Claude, therefore I didn't press him for more information about what he was going to do to my father. As long as my father was happy, I would be happy.

"Very well. I shall require only a few days," Claude informed me vaguely. "That will give you time to attend Mr. Caine's funeral and settle any other business."

"I'm sure my father has left everything he has to me," I said, thinking aloud. "I haven't really got any need for it," I laughed lightly. "I suppose I shall, in turn, leave my money to him." I paused. "Though I would like to leave something for my cousin, Vincent. The Phantomhives certainly don't need it, but I've always cared for them. Vincent was my oldest playmate," I said, smiling. "I think leaving the Manor for him would suffice. You'll put it in my Will, won't you, Claude?" He nodded in reply. The carriage was filled with silence once more and I was left alone to my thoughts, which proved to be an uncomfortable experience. For the past few days, I was sure I wasn't afraid to die, and I felt confident in not being afraid. What was there to fear? It wouldn't be unexpected; I had known this was coming for ages. It certainly wasn't undeserved. Perhaps it was my lack of fear that was frightening me…

"Will it hurt?" I blurted out the question before I had time to stop myself. Claude raised an eyebrow at my question, and I immediately cursed myself for being unable to hold my tongue.

"Will what hurt, My Lady?" he asked, with patience.

"...Dying," I said, flatly. Claude smiled sadly and moved to sit beside me.

"Do you wish for me to lie?" he asked. I shook my head. Claude's smile disappeared. "If you must know," he said, slowly. "Yes. Having your soul sucked from your body is hardly a pleasant experience. I'm afraid that in the past, I've been guilty of being insensitive to that fact, as well," he said, softly.

"I suppose I should have expected it wouldn't be pleasant," I laughed nervously. "Oh well."

"There's no reason for you to be afraid," Claude said, soothingly. "The pain disappears quickly, and you're at peace. You're never alone again."

"You make it sound like you've died before," I said, almost teasingly. I was actually grateful for his comfort, whether he meant what he was saying or not. It made it easier for me to relax and push the unpleasant thoughts from my mind.

"Perhaps I have," He smiled mischievously. "Perhaps I was once a human and died when I became a demon."

"Then you've no reason to complain," I stated, resting my head against his shoulder. "Death suits you."

"My Lady," Claude sighed, still smiling. "I'm afraid death suits no man. Not even me."


	24. Fragility

Caine's funeral passed in a blur. Guiltily, I secretly felt grateful that I could not remember the events of that day. I remembered pieces; mostly an atmosphere tainted with grief, and the look of unbearable pain on Ariadne's face. I had tried to find words to apologize, though they I knew they didn't do much.

"You don't owe me an apology, Dahlia," Ariadne had said, smiling sadly. "This was Caine's doing and mine. There was nothing you could have done that would change the outcome." She kissed the top of my head and pulled me into a gentle embrace.

"If there was," I said softly, "I would have done it."

"I know you would have," Ariadne said, releasing me. She stared at me for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face. At length, she spoke. "I guess this is goodbye, then. I am glad to know you, Dahlia." She smiled sadly once more, and then disappeared into the small crowd of people that had gathered for the funeral.

I remember nothing of the words said about Caine, only that they didn't suffice. I left the funeral with my father shortly after it ended, Claude promising to meet up with us soon, Ariadne wanted him to stay a moment longer.

My father and I passed the day in silence, neither of us really needing to say anything. We each understood how the other felt, and that seemed to suffice. I took time to read over my own Will, making sure that I had reminded Claude to include everything. My Will was short, yet it was odd to read. I suppose I had never imagined that at fifteen years old I would have use for such a document. Yet, knowing of its existence was reassuring. Knowing that things would be taken care of after I died was calming. Knowing that the people I loved would want for nothing provided the most comfort of all.

I retired to my room early that evening, my stomach wounds paining me more than usual. They were healing, but the pain would flare up once and a while. When Claude returned to the Manor, he promptly headed into my room. He sat at the end of my bed, studying me curiously.

"How is Ariadne?" I asked. Claude sighed, a far-away look manifesting in his eyes. He was silent for a moment, as though he wasn't sure how best to answer my question.

"She's…" he paused, still clearly trying to find words. "She's fine," he said at last, his answer hardly what I expected it to be.

"What did the two of you talk about?" I asked, letting Claude's vague answer suffice for now.

"She had a request, actually," Claude said, trying to sound indifferent. He paused again. "I suppose there's really no point in beating around the bush. Ariadne is dead."

"What?" I gasped. I felt all of the air in my chest rush out. "How?" I asked, though I could easily guess. Ariadne was in such pain when Caine died. She couldn't be with him while she was alive. And she knew she couldn't be with him if and when she died. But surely she saw no point in her existence if all that she could expect was pain and emptiness.

"Leviathan," Claude said simply.

"She didn't ask _you_ to…" I asked, still sounding incredibly shocked. If Ariadne's last request was to have Claude kill her, it would explain why he was so shaken. I imagined that killing a fellow demon would feel as foreign and unpleasant to Claude as killing a human would feel to me.

"No," Claude shook his head. "She wanted me to return Leviathan to its sheath when she was done." He paused. "I buried her by Caine," He continued. "She didn't ask me to. She knew I saw her as weak for loving that boy. But I assumed it was what she wanted."

"Are _you_ alright?" I asked, sitting up and scooting closer to Claude. He laughed.

"I'm quite well," he assured me. "I'm simply reminded of the fragility of life. Whether a being is mortal or immortal, that life can come to an end. I have no plans to end my existence," he sighed, grinning confidently.

"I almost wish I could say the same," I said. "Which reminds me, are you prepared to help my father?"

"Only if you are ready for me to," Claude said, gently.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, curiosity finally getting the better of me. "You've been preparing for two days now."

"There is one technique I know," Claude began, "That has something to do with psychology. Essentially, I can make your father forget who he is. He will forget his past, he will forget his sadness…" Claude's eyes flicked to mine. "He'll forget you. It's the only thing I can do to ensure he'll be happy after you're gone."

I felt a lump form in my throat. I suppose I knew in the back of my mind that my father was going to have to forget my existence in order to be happy. But now that the time was at hand, I wasn't sure I was prepared to say goodbye. My father meant the world to me, and living one minute without him would be unbearable. I liked to think that I meant just as much to him. That he would never forget me, nor would he want to. But, I couldn't stop what I had started. I couldn't cause him more pain. If forgetting me was the price we both had to pay, I would see that it was done, regardless of how much I knew that I would regret it.

"Very well," I said, softly. "But I should like to say goodbye before you begin, if that's alright," I requested. Claude nodded.

"Of course," he agreed. "I'll send for him." Claude stood and silently exited the room. In his absence, I only allowed myself to shed a few tears. I had to keep my composure in front of my father. He had no idea what was ahead, after all. In a sense, I suppose I felt terrible that I wasn't going to tell him what was going to be done. But I couldn't explain my deal with Claude, and I knew my father would refuse to go through whatever treatment Claude would put him through. I couldn't let him suffer.

"What is the matter, Dahlia?" My father's soft, warm voice asked, greeting my ears. He walked toward me and sat at the end of my bed. I crawled towards him, placing my head on his lap. He placed a hand on my shoulder and bent down to kiss my cheek.

"When I went to London for the first time after being released from Northwood," I began, "I went to that dress shop that mother always took me to. The woman that worked there told me that you bought a dress every year on my birthday. Even when I was gone."

"I had intended on sending them to you, but I was afraid they would be taken away," my father confessed. "Your mother always told me I had horrible taste in women's fashion, anyway." He laughed lightly, and I joined in.

"I would have loved them just the same," I assured him. "Thank you," I said, after a pause.

"Oh, my dove," my father sighed, running his fingers through my hair. "After all I've done, I'm afraid I owe you more than just a few dresses."

"You owe me nothing," I protested. "Don't be so hard on the man I love most in this world." I reached up and gently stroked his face. In the past few days, his age finally seemed to have caught up with him. His expression was constantly worn with grief. Soon that grief would be erased. Soon he could let go.

"Dahlia, I know you're growing," He said softly. "Soon, you'll slip right through my fingers. You'll find some other man to take care of you." Despite my grief, I managed to let out a loud snort. My father chuckled. "Come now. Even those opposed to settling down, find their match eventually," he reminded me. "Even so, you have to promise me something right now." I sat up, looking into his eyes. They were lively and sparkling, holding an expression of hope. They seemed to be the only animated part of his whole being.

"I'll promise you anything, father," I said, gently. I took his hand in mine, and held it up to my face.

"You promise me you'll never leave me," He said. "Physically you'll have to, of course. I won't be around forever. Just… don't forget about your old man."

"Oh, father," I said, hugging him tightly and allowing my tears to fall freely. "I couldn't forget about you. You'll be in my heart even as I draw my last breath." My father held me for several more moments. I savored it while I could. My father's arms seemed to be the only place I could take refuge, the only place I could forget about my past. When he held me, it was only me and him. Nothing could hurt me, he wouldn't let it. His arms were strong; it seemed as though they had enough strength to lift all of my burdens off of my shoulders. Yet, within that strength was incredible gentleness.

"We've had enough of a serious tone for one day," he said at length, releasing me from his grasp. "I think it's time for us to move on. Do something to get our mind off of recent events. What do you think?" He asked, smiling.

"I think you're quite the genius," I smiled back. How I wished things were that simple.

"Your uncle James has offered to let us come and visit. And Vincent is dying to see you, of course," my father laughed. "He's surely all grown up now. He's eleven come spring."

"We'll pack tomorrow, then?" I asked. My father leant in and kissed my head for a final time.

"Yes, tomorrow. Good night, Dahlia," he said standing. I watched him near the doorway, panic bubbling up in my chest.

"Father," I called frantically. He turned to face me. I paused. "I love you." His face broke out into a smile, lifting much of the sorrow that seemed to be permanently worn into his expression. It was good to see him smile again.

"I love you, too, Dahlia," he said, laughing a little. He turned to leave once more, and I held my breath. I had to let him go. I bit my lip before I attempted to call him back. I wished there was more time to say goodbye. Or even that I didn't have to say goodbye at all. I felt that if I didn't say the words aloud, it would make things less real. That, in a sense, he wasn't really leaving me.

He closed the door behind him, leaving me enveloped in darkness. I was grateful for it; the darkness didn't care how long I cried. It didn't care about my past. It didn't care what was to become of me. It was simply there. It was constant.

There were only several times in my life when I felt like I was actually a child, and this was one of them. My childish fear of being alone was actually becoming realized. I had no mother. I had no father. Of course, I was only in this condition for a short time, but it was painful all the same. I felt that the only person I had left to cling onto was Claude, and I knew that he didn't care for me as genuinely as my parents did. But, I supposed, having a demon _pretend_ to care for you was better than nothing at all. And I was so close to having nothing.

I had no desire to rise out of bed the next morning. My body felt heavy and I was tired. As Claude gently opened the curtains in my room, I couldn't resist the urge to throw my blankets over my head. Yet, in his patience, Claude sat beside me, and gently coaxed them off of my face at least.

"Good morning, My Lady," he said softly. "I know the past few days have been taxing. But you do have a guest to attend to." Claude's words made my heart sink. I had hoped that the previous evening had been a bad dream. But Claude gently reminded me of reality. "A Mr. Dunns sought shelter here last night. He's a writer from America."

"Very good," I said, my voice sounding thick, as though I hadn't used it for centuries. "He's comfortable, I presume?" I asked.

"Yes," Claude assured me. "He awaits your presence in the dining hall." Claude helped me to climb out of bed. He quickly examined my stomach wounds, though their condition didn't matter all that much, and changed the dressings. He helped me to dress for the day, taking great care not to cause pain to flare up in my wounds, and opened the door to my room.

"Claude," I said, softly. "I don't know that I can do this. I miss him already," I cried. Claude shut the door quietly and walked to me. He knelt down so that he was eye level with me.

"Dahlia, you've only ever ordered me to do things for the benefit of others. Never has anything you've desired been entirely for yourself. You are especially brave for ensuring your father's happiness at the cost of your own. That bravery is going to carry you through the day," he said softly. "And I'll be here for you. You're never entirely alone." I nodded, quickly brushing my tears away. Claude was right. I only had to endure a while longer. After all I had been through, it would be such a relief to get things over with.

Claude escorted me down to the dining room. Before opening the door, he offered me some gentle advice.

"Mr. Dunns' mind is still a bit fragile," he said. "It would be best if you didn't mention any specifics about your father. Otherwise, he might relapse." I nodded, and Claude opened the door and ushered me into the dining room.

My father- Mr. Dunn- rose from his seat as I entered. I plastered on what I hoped was a convincing smile and motioned for him to resume sitting. He beamed and did so.

"I trust you slept well last night, Mr. Dunn?" I asked, sitting at the far end of the table. Claude took his place beside me.

"Oh, yes," my father replied vigorously, resuming his meal. His flat American accent was odd, and I very much missed his usual tones. "Your staff was very hospitable. I must apologize for inconveniencing you at such a time."

"You're not an inconvenience," I assured him. "Guests are always welcome here. It certainly helps to brighten up the place a bit."

"If you don't mind my asking," My father said, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin, "Is it just you in this house?"

"I'm afraid so," I replied as I was served breakfast. "My mother died a long time ago. And my father… my father, too. Quite recently." I tried to be as vague as possible.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Dunns said softly. "Was he a good man? Your father, I mean." I opened my mouth to respond, and Claude coughed suggestively. I swallowed my answer of a resounding yes, and simply shrugged my shoulders.

"I've been… away most of my adolescence. I'm afraid I didn't get to know him as well as I would have liked to," I said. It was the truth. I was briefly reunited with my father, and only got a glimpse of the man he truly was. I had idolized him as a child, without really knowing why. In the past few weeks, however, my father proved to be someone worth idolizing. I finally had names to put to the many qualities he had; patience, kindness, generosity. I was sure there were many more qualities I would have discovered in his possession in time, but fate had planned otherwise. All I needed to know was that he meant the world to me.

"Maybe someday you'll know," Mr. Dunns said softly, dropping the conversation.

We finished our meal with small chatter, the atmosphere lightening, considerably. Our conversation topics steered more towards the man my father had become: Mr. Dunns. He was only just beginning his writing career. He wanted to see the world and experience things before he wrote about them, he informed me. He was currently finishing his first manuscript, and was traveling home to try and get it published. I smiled faintly. Claude couldn't have done a better job.

"I cannot thank you enough," my father said, as he prepared to leave.

"There is nothing to thank me for," I assured him. "Your presence was most welcome. Travel safely to America," I said, offering my hand. Mr. Dunns took it and kissed it gently. I resisted the urge to embrace him. He turned towards his carriage. "If you ever find yourself in London again," I said, not quite ready for him to leave, "Don't forget me."

"I shall hardly forget you, Miss Grimm," Mr. Dunns smiled. "You're quite an impressionable young lady." He climbed into the carriage. "Until we meet again!" He called cheerily as he shut the door.

* * *

><p><strong>A\N:<strong>So, I know that I just updated yesterday, but I'm really freakin' excited to get this thing done. Not that I don't enjoy writing it, its just exciting to see things finally come to an end. Plus I can start\finish other stuff. So yeah. I'm sorry all my crap has been so sad lately, I haven't been doing it on purpose... D: I think this is the end of the super sad stuff... so there's a light at the end of the tunnel! But, there's only going to be like 2 more chapters... so I guess it doesn't really matter. Lemme know what you think! 33


	25. Surrender

I held my tears back until I made it back into the Manor. Hardly caring who saw me, or what anyone thought, I sank to the floor and released the flood of feelings I had been holding back. I couldn't claim that _all_ of my emotion was grief. Some was relief. Relief that I could finally let go of everything; I had no ties, all of my burdens had been lifted off of my back, and all my affairs were in order. Some was happiness. I was happy that my father wouldn't have to feel incredible sadness anymore. Some was anger. I wondered why all of this had to happen to me in the first place; why I was chosen to be dealt this hand. And some of it was gratitude. Gratitude that I had been fortunate enough to find Claude and accomplish all of the things I ever dreamed of doing.

I became aware of Claude's arms around me, and welcomed his embrace. I buried my face in his chest, putting out a minimal effort to calm myself. My demon was patient with me, running a gloved hand through my hair, holding me for as long as necessary.

"You'll check up on my father every once and a while, yes?" I asked, after I had finally calmed down. "Just to make sure he's happy."

"Of course, my lady," Claude said, without hesitation.

"Thank you," I whispered. I gathered myself off the floor and stood to my full height. Now was the moment. Was I ready to face death? After days of assuring myself I was, I finally realized I wasn't. I never would be. It wasn't because I was afraid of dying. It was because I was afraid of the unknown. I didn't know what would happen to me. I didn't know what it would feel like. I didn't know if anything would even exist for me anymore.

Yet, I was so ready to taste sweet relief. I was ready to end things at last. My unhappiness wouldn't matter. I had finished everything, my father was happy, my mother could rest. It seemed like it was only fair that now it was my turn to feel peace. Peace had seemed so unachievable, so far away, so… impossible mere months before. Now it was easily within my grasp, and I couldn't let my fear deprive me of such a commodity.

"I trust I can leave my affairs to you, as well?" I asked. "The Phantomhive family will need to be notified shortly after my death."

"I understand," Claude said, nodding. His golden eyes were searching my face with an expression I couldn't read. Yet, his gaze was oddly calming.

"I- I would like to die here in the Manor," I muttered softly. "If that's all right."

"Of course," Claude said, smiling softly. "You do realize you have time? You do not owe me your soul immediately."

"What reason have I to stay?" I asked, sadly.

* * *

><p><em>Dahlia led me out into the garden. I felt it was an odd place to choose to die, though I said nothing. We walked in silence for several moments; Dahlia ran her fingers gently across the petals of the rows of flowers. There was a stone bench in the back of the garden, and it was at this bench that we stopped. Dahlia sighed and sat down, looking weary- though it wasn't really a surprise. The girl had been through so much.<em>

_ Humans were always creatures I found to be incredibly queer. Just at the moment when I was sure I had figured them all out, an anomaly of sorts would cross my path. Some anomalies were terrible. Some were pleasant. I found that humans were capable of the widest range of emotions; those emotions could be weak in some, yet strong in others. Emotion was a large motivator, and I for one, was glad to not have to deal with the burden. Emotions were exactly that, a burden. If you couldn't control your emotions you'd be led to do things that you wouldn't normally do. If you could control the emotions within you, that didn't mean one didn't suffer. I had learned these sorts of things from my previous masters- all of whom were matured humans (at least in humanity's perspective). They were always thinking of themselves, trying to find loopholes in the contract, being controlled by common emotions such as anger, hatred, and jealousy. Yet, sitting before me, was a perfect example of a human anomaly. Dahlia was a young girl, even by human standards, though it seemed she was more mature than half of my previous masters. She was driven by emotions, like all humans. Even by typical emotions such as hatred. But there was also grief. And love. So few humans contracted with me to save another, and Dahlia had done just that. The tasks I had carried out would hardly benefit her in the long run. She was always caring about other people. How could a race so vile and corrupt have produced something so innocent and pure? How could such a good soul have blossomed from the filth it was surrounded by? Was I entirely ready to wipe it off the face of the earth?_

_ Dahlia had been staring at me expectantly with a small smile as I became lost in my thoughts._

_ "I'm ready, Claude," she reminded me with a gentle whisper. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt, killing Dahlia. There was a range of… complexities running through my head. In all honesty, I could only contribute my hesitation to the fact that I was attached. Not in the sense that Ariadne was attached to Caine- who had also proven to be a human anomaly- yet it felt incredibly similar. Dahlia had always interested me. I had always been able to connect with her on some level, which was odd for someone like me. I hardly connected with my own kind, let alone a human. I felt like she had almost been cheated somehow. That someone as good as her shouldn't end up the way she was going to. She deserved a happy ending of her own, didn't she?_

_ "What's wrong, Claude?" she asked, softly._

_ "There's something I could do for you," I said quickly, without entirely realizing I had said it until Dahlia's expression changed. _

_ "There's nothing more you need to do," Dahlia smiled. "You've done everything I've asked. You've changed sorrow into joy, pain to relief, and fear into hope. And you have every right to take what is yours."_

_ "Dahlia, you could-" I started. I felt like a fool. "Things don't have to end this way for you. You could become like me." Dahlia let out a laugh. It sounded tired and sad._

_ "What would be the purpose in that?" she inquired, her eyes sparkling a little. "I plan to merely become a _part_ of you."_

_ "Yes, I know that. But don't you think you deserve a happy ending?" I asked, voicing more of my thoughts aloud than I had really intended._

_ "Do you pity me?" she asked sadly. I didn't know how to respond. Was I feeling pity? "Do you feel sorry for the sad creature I've become?" she continued. "Claude, this _is_ my happy ending. My father can finally be happy again. He may even remarry. My mother is finally at peace. Townnesend is locked away where she deserves to be. She has no chance of escaping. And as for me, I get to rest. Finally. I will be at peace, and I will never be alone. You said so yourself. I'd always be with you."_

_ This is what Dahlia wanted. Not to live forever. Not to be powerful. She just wanted an ending. _

_How curious._

_ "You're ready to die, then?" I asked. Dahlia nodded in response, a look of peace finally settling over her face._

_ I quickly slipped out of my unusually caring demeanor. I smiled at her, finally paying attention to the emptiness inside myself. Dahlia would fill that void. It would be nice to finally satisfy my own urges. I had gone several years without doing so._

_ There were many ways to remove a soul. Most were painful. Most I enjoyed making painful. I enjoyed seeing my masters' pain; mostly because they actually began to believe that they held dominion over me. Causing them agony was just a final reminder that I had been the one in charge the whole time. As I aged, I would experiment with different ways to remove a soul. There were ways I preferred over others, as these methods kept the quality of the soul intact. However, there was only one way I knew to gently remove a soul. This method I had only used once or twice before, for masters who were anomalies much like Miss Grimm. I felt that these sorts of humans deserved some form of decency._

_ I leaned in towards Dahlia, who had closed her eyes. There was a slight smile upon her lips. As I drew closer to the girl, I breathed in the scent of her soul. It was incredibly tantalizing and tempting. And now it was mine. I let my lips brush softly against hers, resisting the urge to quickly pull her soul out, as it would cause incredible pain. Instead, I elected to slowly drain her life, minimizing her pain. Her soul was unlike anything I had ever tasted._

_ I saw a life flash through my mind. Dahlia's life- or what it could have been. Viewing a "could have been" life was always a nuance to me, and was part of the reason I enjoyed devouring souls so quickly. However, this time was different. Dahlia had such a long life left and I had time to see it all, as though it really happened. The Dahlia that could have been would have grown up shortly. Despite what the girl believed, she would have married. I caught a glimpse of her small fiery haired children, who enjoyed a much more pleasant experience than their mother. Dahlia would have stayed in contact with her father- who would have remained her father, not some other man- and been beside him the moment he died. After all of her experiences of travel, learning, loving, and living, she would grow old and die. Peacefully. The way she would have wanted._

_When it was all over, I stood. Another contract was completed. I could feel Dahlia's presence gently pressing on my mind, where I knew it would remain for the better part of eternity. The peace and relief I felt was from Dahlia. And Dahlia would supply that feeling for the rest of my existence._


	26. The Lost BoyEpilogue

I proceeded to follow the others and obey the boy's barked out orders, but I found that I was stopped. His slender arms wrapped themselves around my leg, and he looked up at me with his large, clear blue eyes.

"Not you, Claude," he pleaded. "Don't leave me all alone."

His plea struck me. This boy was just as young as my mistress Dahlia had been. Though there had been plenty of other masters to serve between now and then, I always found that I had never entirely forgotten her. This boy was the youngest master I'd served since Dahlia, and I'd hardly had qualms about doing so, as Dahlia proved to be a very satisfying mistress- and meal. In so many ways, he was incredibly different. He was boisterous and often irritating, rude, and demanding. Yet, in so many ways, he was parallel. He had the same fear of being forgotten, of being left alone. He was just as fragile, had suffered just as much, and similarly viewed himself as unworthy filth. The part of me that was Dahlia was moved.

I slipped on the thin, silver frames Dahlia had given me, and knelt down to his level. I let words of comfort roll easily off my tongue. I was extremely well practiced with words, always knowing what to say to calm a human's fears. There were seldom times when I meant what I said.

"I am your loyal slave," I found myself echoing the words I had used decades ago, to a young girl in a black gown. I had meant it then, truly. And I meant it now.

But I wasn't as foolish as I had been decades ago. I knew better than to get attached to a human. It created unnecessary emotions. I wasn't about to make the same mistake now. This lost boy reminded me so much of Dahlia- the first human to make me feel anything other than disgust for the human race- and I knew that if I didn't squelch my idiocy now, things would turn out for the worse. His unyielding attachment to me didn't help matters much, either. I would have to be ruthless, underneath of course. I had to make the boy let go. Make him hate me, even if it meant I wouldn't end up with his soul. I had a plan, of course, to give the boy everything he desired-

_"You're getting soft, you know,"_ I heard Dahlia's voice ring out clearly in my head. She spoke to me frequently; sometimes her comments were welcomed. Sometimes, they were incredibly irritating. This was one of those times. It wasn't true. I wasn't getting soft. I'd prove it to her.

_"No matter how you treat him, I know you'll still care about him in your own way," _I heard the smile in her voice. _"Lots of things about you have changed since I was alive, Claude, but not this."_

Even after all this time, I'd still be willing to sacrifice everything for an anomaly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Wow. It's finished! It's kinda weird to have wrapped it all up, though I hope the end was satisfying. I tried to kind of tie Claude's intricate relationship with Alois into the story, but I don't really know if I succeeded in the way that I had hoped :/ I always felt that Claude was such an incredibly complex character. To me, he embodied the ruthlessness of a demon more so than Sebastian, yet at the same time seemed to be struggling with emotions. For me, he was kinda one of those two layer characters; on the surface, they appear one way, but in reality, they're at war with themselves and their nature. For me Claude appeared to be a total douche face in the beginning, but when I discovered his second layer of conflict… I fell in love. I felt that despite everything Claude did to Alois, there was some sort of ulterior motive behind it and that- to some extent- he was able to connect with the boy. Because, truthfully, things couldn't have ended up happier for Alois; he was reunited with Luka and got to be with Hannah (and apparently Claude, too :3). Seems a little too good to be entirely coincidence…. But that's just my humble opinion.

This was probably the most fun I've ever had writing a fic, and I'm so glad that I got the reception I did. Seriously, you guys boosted my writer's self esteem all the time. It was so wonderful! You really read into the story, and gave me your own interpretations, which were beautiful (**and** told me that you were getting the message I was trying to get across!)! Plus, when I felt like I was stuck as far as which direction to take the story, your reviews and encouragement helped me to think of a new twist. Because, believe me, I had intended on ending this story a little differently [like maybe Caine would have lived… 'cause it really hurt me to kill him. Just so you know. D: Unfortunately for you Dahlia fans, I had always intended on killing her… just because it fit the dynamic of the story better. I can't really explain it…. LoL].

Also, this fic has inspired me to write a oneshot that fits the same storyline, involving our dear friend Vincent Phantomhive, so keep an eye out for that. If you want to, that is. I'm not going to force you to read it. :3 No date estimate at this point, as I have to move in 2 days, and then I start college (woo, I'm all growed up… LoL)!

And now, dear readers and friends, I suppose it is time to bid you adieu! I want to thank you all once more for reading (and confessing when I converted you into a Claude lover! Muahahaha! And to those of you who haven't confessed yet, it's okay. I was a closeted Claude lover for a while. You'll come 'round eventually.) and for your fantastic reviews. This seriously wouldn't have been completed without you. 3 {Aaaand, I'm sorry for the insanely long author's note… huhuhuhu}


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